


Road Trip

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ... I don't know how to tag this to be honest, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I didn't know how it happened... it just somehow... did, I ring the shame bell for myself, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, and all those things I normally leave to my readers' imagination, and suddenly they were doing so much more than I would ever let them do in my fanfics, and wear a cone of shame, because this is a thing of impossibilty, for Wacky writes no smut, i am shook, it was all, until it wasn't, with, with..., yet here we are, yet here we are...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10028147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: Jaime's car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and that during his road trip to Oldtown, how unfair!But things take a drastic turn when a motorcyclist appears when he is already short before giving up all hope.And apparently a turn for the better...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeleneU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeleneU/gifts).



> *creeps out from under a rock*
> 
> Hello everyone! Thanks for looking into this story. 
> 
> I already said it in the tags. I cannot believe I actually wrote that fic. You all know I am not gifted with the Gift of Smut, yet... here we are now, and I have written that thing and I still can't believe it and I am shook and... 
> 
> So anyway. Obviously, this is the first time I (pathetically) attempt to write such scenes, so... bear with me, I suppose. It just happened, you guys, I was not planning on it, I swear by the Seven! One moment they were talking, being all cute and sweet, and the next... well, you're about to read, you brave fellows, looking into the depths this fic provides. 
> 
> Warnings go as always: This is unbeta'd, I am still no native, even less a native to the Explicit Tongue (lolz), I own all mistakes made... so yeah. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy that weird ride (pun may be intended). You have my greatest respect for actually following through reading this. 
> 
> But just to be sure, writing smut is still far from my field of expertise, so probabilities are fairly low that this will repeat itself at all too often any time soon. It takes about everything for me to post that thing, lol. 
> 
> I gift this to Selene because she is awesome and was so kind to encourage me to keep writing and post this fanfic here (along some other people who have been varying between encouraging and bribing, JK, y'all fab) and because she's been so kind to grant me a chance to explore other fields of creativity that do by NO means relate to this fic. Thank you, darling. ♥♥♥
> 
> In any case... enjoy, please don't cry if you don't... I am sorry Mother, Father, Warrior, Crone, Stranger, Maiden, Smith... 
> 
> *Wacky Out*
> 
> *flies away, right into the sun*

“This has to be a fuckin’ joke,” Jaime moans, knocking the back of his head against the hot side of his red _Lion Star_ , hissing once the heat of the metal becomes too unbearable against his scalp.

That car is supposed to be the best of the best. No less would you expect of a Lannister to ride, and _yet_ … here Jaime is now, in the middle of nowhere, with no car driving by for the past three hours, if not longer, the sun laughing down on him, seemingly taking spiteful glee in boiling him from outside in. Sweat soaks his shirt and jeans, though it doesn’t bring much relief to cool him down.

Jaime moans. _At least I didn’t forget about the sunscreen. Whatever._

And all he wanted was some time off, away from _Lannister Enterprise_ , away from the _beloved_ family, away from world’s troubles, for a short trip down the Western coast, down the empty highways and country roads, feel the wind in his hair, the kinds of things you see in the road trip movies.

_A simple trip from the Rock to Oldtown and back, that’s all I’ve been asking for, Seven Hells._

Jaime, after not having taken a holiday in felt eternities, simply wanted some time for himself, for no one but himself.

Without Cersei annoying him about wanting an even greater promotion or a bonus to use for some project she thinks she should be allowed to launch despite the fact that _everyone_ tells her that it won’t _ever_ be successful, which is why it won’t ever be initiated so long anyone can help it. Or lamenting about how the world is unfair to her for not giving her all chances when in fact it _does_ and she just can’t make proper use of them.

Without Tyrion bemoaning not having enough time to go to the brothels down Silk Street now that he was given even more responsibility in the company – because no matter how much Tywin Lannister may hate to admit it, Tyrion is likely the most valuable employee they have, which means he has to live up to that, no matter his displeasure.

Without his father’s endless monologs about the family legacy, the Lannister Empire, meant to last “a thousand years.” About how Tywin expects _this_ of Jaime, how he expects _that_ of Jaime, his oldest son and heir, how he wants him to take over the company one day, how he wants him to finally find himself a suitable wife and, to bring forth heirs to continue the family legacy Tywin is _so_ very fond of. Needless to mention that Jaime considers these outdated patriarchal structures something he can well do without, but far more importantly, Jaime would rather have a say in how he wants to frame his life in the future. Though that obviously falls on deaf ears.

So yes, Jaime wanted a break from all that, from all those noises and voices, he wanted to get away from Casterly Rock and all the troubles, big and small. And a road trip with no one but himself seemed like the _perfect_ solution to it all.

And he had it all planned _so_ well.

 _At least I thought so_ , Jaime thinks to himself, letting out a huff.

He carefully prepared his pit stops, made sure to have extra gas, a big first aid kit, he read up on basic repairs, saw to it to have maps as well as a sat nav in his car before he departed from the Rock, _just in case technology gives up in the middle of the road_ , and he made sure that there were enough motels and hotels available. _Seven Hells_ , Jaime even went to see that quack of a doctor Qyburn, whom Cersei swears by _for some fucked up reason_ , to get himself another tetanus injection, just in case he’d get a cut or a scratch and had no hospital within reach.

And now Jaime sits somewhere between Old Oak where he had to suffer through the worst breakfast he’s ever eaten in a lifetime (the coffee was so awful it tasted like water mixed with dirt) and the next motel on his list, somewhere close to Highgarden, down Ocean Road, which is still at least an hours’ drive away, _if not more_.

And apparently, he didn’t run out of gas, _no_. The car just gurgled once, twice, thrice, before succumbing to the darkness of the engine giving up on itself.

Nothing of what he read up on before going on that trip is of help now. Jaime studied the manual as though it was a sacred document, went through the tips and tricks again and again, but no luck, no help, _no hope_.

Not that Jaime is unfamiliar with doing small repairs on his cars without calling in a mechanic, that’s really not it, he’s done that a couple of times before specifically to be sure to be able to do that on his own once he is on his trip to Oldtown, but the _Lion Star_ won’t move and only does so much as gurgling as though it is begging for the gift of mercy.

And truth be told, Jaime is _that_ close to giving the car _just_ that. If only that brought about any sort of change, which he knows it won’t.

Thus, the oldest son of Tywin Lannister had no other choice but to smudge on some sunscreen, take out his sunglasses, and sit down beside the car, waiting for the impossible to happen.

_Not that this was very fruitful until now._

Jaime stretches out his legs, no longer caring if he is ruining his 200 stag jeans with the pebbles and dirt rubbing into the fabric. He considered wasting a blanket to sit on it, but he was not in a good mood after he found out that his phone wasn’t working either, so he just slid down the side of the car and stopped caring about his jeans as well as the discomfort of the pebbles digging into his rear.

One would be inclined to believe that a car should have come by this road at _some_ point. It’s the only reasonable passage from Old Oak if you want to get anywhere close to Highgarden or _any_ bigger city. There aren’t as many roads in this part of Westeros. Ocean Road should be the one travel route, but… no car, nothing. _Absolutely_ nothing.

_Is there seriously no one travelling around here? Did people here all sell their cars? Not even some farmer with his tractor travelling shit to one his fields? Seriously?!_

Jaime considered just going ahead to walk over to some small town to maybe get to a mechanic, or at least make a phone call to get help, but the maps show no towns within a thirty-mile radius. In the heat, the oldest son of Tywin Lannister is really _not_ in the mood for such a quest, neither does he believe it to be healthy. So, if Jaime has to walk, he’ll rather do it later the day, once it cooled down a bit. So the plan, at least.  

Not that this is any help now, though. Because Jaime feels like he is _melting_.

Jaime makes a mental note to plan the next trip for either spring or fall, _if_ there even is going to be another one after this debacle, that is.

“I’ll be the first Lannister to die in a roadside ditch in the middle of nowhere,” Jaime moans, taking a sip of the now lukewarm water, squishing the bottle tightly between his fingers with a crunching sound.

_At least there is food and drink, so survival chances are slightly higher. **Hooray**. _

“Well, at least we’ll get to piss off Father one last time in case I die. If I go, I take his precious Empire with me,” Jaime sighs, kicking some pebbles away. “And now I am talking to myself. _Gods_.”

Maybe he should just take a nap. Though then again, he may miss a car coming by – or get robbed – _if not worse_.

“I just wanted holidays, a road trip. Was that all asked too much?” Jaime exhales wearily, glancing up at the sky colored in pale blue with only thin, long veils of clouds, waiting for an answer that never comes. He huffs, kicking at some more pebbles away in frustration.

For a brief moment, Jaime considers turning even more melancholic and pathetic to write some nonsensical last note to his (not always so) beloved family.

Then he could put down things such as “ _Dear Cersei, you only have that job because of your name, not your skill, so stop complaining,_ ” or “ _Dear Tyrion, we both know that you only moan about not getting any chance to visit the brothels because you try to cover up the fact that you found a sweetheart Shae there that you don't want Father to find out about just yet,_ ” or “ _dear Father, I just wanted you to know that if I had ever gotten the chance and scourge of inheriting the Lannister Empire that is more precious to you than the people who apparently make up that empire, I would have done everything within my powers to change the bits and pieces you held most dear. P.S. You suck as a father. Goodbye_.”

Though Jaime decides against it, of course. _Obviously_ , he isn’t going to die here. Once the sun set a bit, he is going to make his way to that town. He is athletic, and he has enough provisions if need be. He’ll be fine.

_Well, not **fine** , because for that I am too pissed, but I’ll survive. Let us rejoice!_

Jaime is roused by the thrumming of a motor in the distance.

_A car! A car at last!_

He jumps to his feet at once, staggering for a moment, but then regains his stance. Jaime runs his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, trying to make out the vehicle he can hear but not yet see.

_That car better stop and not just ride past me, or else I may toss something. And I have a good aim!_

Jaime has to look twice once the vehicle comes to ride on the top of the small mound from where he came short before his car gave up on him.

_No car, but a… motorcycle?_

He is not yet sure if those are good or bad news. Jaime is more glad that finally someone is coming by, but he reckons that motorcyclist won’t take him along on the bike, just like he finds his hopes fading that this person will know how to fix his car or have what it takes to get it to work again.

 _But it's a human being in sight at least. To get help. Make a call. **Something**. Whatever it takes to get out of this Death Valley in small_ , he reminds himself.

Jaime waves with his arms to signal at the motorcyclist to stop, and for a moment he fears that he won’t stop but just drive past him. However, to his utter relief, the biker turns his head to him, slows down, and pulls over to the area of dirt and pebbles to which Jaime managed to maneuver the car before it died completely.

The motorcycle makes almost purring noises as it comes to stand, the smell of gasoline heavy in the hot summer air. From what Jaime can see, it’s a fine machine most certainly.

 _It almost roars like a lion!_ he thinks to himself, chuckling softly at the idea.

Jaime glances at the person driving the motorcycle more closely. Clad in dark navy leather overall. A helmet with black visor, quartered red and blue with a moon and a sun on either side of the head, by the temple. Long legs, very long legs. But beyond that… nothing much Jaime can see at this point.

“Hi, uhm, my car broke down,” he begins. “The name’s Jaime Lannister.”

The motorcyclist turns to him, before switching off the engine and kicking out the sidestand to park the vehicle, dismounting it as though it was a horse, swinging long legs over the leather seat with unexpected grace.

Once the stranger takes off the helmet, Jaime cannot help the small surprise once he catches sight of flaxen hair sticking to the scalp, big blue eyes staring back at him, piercing right through him, and undeniably… _a woman_. Jaime was most certain from the way the person moved and stood that this was a man, but… no, a woman, most definitely a woman. While not the prettiest he has ever laid eyes upon, there is something strangely fascinating about her, though Jaime can’t put his finger on it just yet, other than her beautiful, big blue eyes.

“Have you called a mechanic yet, or the breakdown service?” the tall, blonde woman asks, wiping sweat from her brow with a still gloved hand.

“No connection here, sadly, or else I would have,” Jaime replies, flashing a small smile she does not return, however. The woman looks around, squinting her eyes against the sunlight.

“As far as I gathered from the maps, the next town is quite far away, so I thought I’d rather wait till it’s a bit cooler before walking the way,” Jaime goes on to say.

“Which was likely for the best. You could have gotten yourself a heatstroke walking in that heat,” the woman tells him, though yet again, she doesn't even seem to take notice of him as her eyes keep scanning the area.

“I’m always glad to hear that I wasn’t entirely foolish in my assessment of the situation,” he chuckles. “May I know your name?”

“Brienne of Tarth,” she replies curtly, her eyes wandering over his car.

“Tarth? As in the Sapphire Isle Tarth?” he asks.

“Yes, that one.”

“And what is a noble lady of the Sapphire Isle doing in the middle of nowhere of the Ocean Road?” Jaime chuckles.

One should think that the daughter of the Evenstar would be… _not here, really_.

“Well, you tell me, what is the son of Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock doing in the middle of nowhere of the Ocean Road?” she returns, which leaves Jaime stunned for a moment. At some point he didn’t expected her to be that open, needless to mention that he didn’t expect her to know his family relations in more detail.

Though then again, Tarth is an old noble house, so is House Lannister. It seems that those reputations echo over the years no matter how much they shifted in shape over decades and centuries.

“Touché, I suppose. Well, I was on a road trip, until my car just completely shut down. I think it’s dead.”

“Hm, which is odd enough. _Lion Stars_ are good and sturdy cars, actually. Normally, they make no trouble,” Brienne says, curling her lips into a frown.

“Well, that one seems to be quite singular, then.”

“If you want me to, I can have a look at the engine, maybe I find out what’s wrong?” she suggests.

“Are you a mechanic?”

Her expression shifts at once to something quite different from the curiosity and confusion he sensed of her mere seconds ago. “No, but I know a whole lot about cars. So, unless you find yourself someone else in the middle of nowhere, you’d do better not to refuse the help offered to you, Mr. Lannister.”

“I… didn’t mean it like that. I was just curious to know,” Jaime argues, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes widening. Jaime gives her an easy smile. While he doesn’t know her, he can deduce from her reaction that she is simply used to having people question her abilities, but Jaime is far from that. Even if she knew little to nothing about cars, it’d still be more promising than sitting by the road, waiting for a miracle to happen.

_And who knows? Maybe this **is** my miracle after all! _

“Well, then shall I?” she asks after a pause, averting her gaze.

“I’d _greatly_ appreciate it, _Ms. Tarth_ ,” Jaime chuckles, enjoying to tease her with her overt formality. However, the tease seems to be lost on her, as irritated as she looks at him. Brienne gives him another quizzical look before motioning past him to the hood of the car.

“Wait, I’ll open it up,” Jaime says, before quickly ducking back into the car to pull the lever. With a chink, the hood pops up. Brienne’s hands routinely open the hood and find the hood support rod to keep the thing open.

“So, what happened exactly before the car… _died_?” she asks, eyes fixed on the plastic and metal parts.

“There was a gurgling noise, three times, after that, everything just shut down, safe for the brakes, gladly. So, I rolled down the mound and onto the side of the road to bring the car to a full stop,” Jaime reports.

“You could still maneuver?”

“Yes, that went without issue.”

“Okay… so seemingly nothing with the electronics,” she mutters, her eyes scanning the engine now. “Can you try to start the engine another time?”

“Sure,” Jaime says, sitting down in the driver’s seat to do as she bid him, but yet again, only small gurgling, screeching noises come out of the vehicle, as though it was really begging for the mercy to be put out of its misery.

“Do it again.”

So Jaime does.

“And another time, please.”

Jaime repeats it once more.

“Okay, that’s enough for now,” Brienne calls out. Jaime gets back out of the heat of the car to motion over to the hood of the car.

He is surprised to see that Brienne, meanwhile, took off her gloves, and rolled her overall down to her thick waist to leave her standing there in only just a loose, plain, white muscle shirt, which is translucent in some places due to the sweat, leaning over the engine to reveal her broad shoulders, and the athletic curve of her rear.

Jaime tries his best not to flash a dirty grin at her, reckoning that she’d instantly pull up her suit again to escape his gazes. Since Jaime finds himself appreciating the view more than maybe he should, he rather keeps it to himself, thus. For that, the fact that he can see the small curve of her rather flat chest peaking out of the loose shirt in the most teasing of ways is all too delicious, against the odds of her otherwise not too beautiful looks.

“So? Do we have to give the car the gift of mercy, you think?” Jaime asks calmly, his mimic not betraying him once as Brienne whirls her head around to him, wet locks of blonde hair sticking to her forehead, glistening in the sunlight like little crystals.

“I wouldn’t give up hope just yet,” she says, her expression still perfectly blunt, if a bit uncertain. “I can’t say for certain just yet. It should be something with the engine, though. That much I am fairly sure about.”

“And you can fix the engine, you think?”

“Maybe, if the damage is not too great,” she replies, rolling her shoulders, her expression mindful as she seemingly runs through the options.

“You are a lifesaver, you know that, right? It’s as though the Seven sent me someone from the _Westerosi Automobile Association_ to save me!” Jaime laughs, flashing a bright smile at her that only seems to add to her irritation.

“Let’s see about it. Up to this point, not much saving yet,” Brienne argues, offering a small smile, coupled with a huff. “Needless to mention that I don't work for the _WAA_.”

“Speaking of which, what do you do for a living?” Jaime asks.

“I thought we are supposed to fix your car?” Brienne argues, gesturing at the engine.

“We might just as well have a bit of small talk, don’t you think?” Jaime argues. “I didn’t get to talk for quite some time, so I very much appreciate any human contact. Plus, I’d like to get to know my savior a bit more.”

“I am not…,” she means to say, but then stops herself. “I work in the family company, like you do, as far as I am concerned. I handle most of the transregional affairs because my father is no longer so fit to travel around the whole time.”

“I hope he isn’t ill?” Jaime asks, frowning with concern. While he doesn’t know the man, he has a very good reputation. He counts to the sort of business people who don’t act like sharks and still turned out successful. Jaime always found something admiring about that.

“Oh no, he’s as healthy as an ox, and as stubborn as one, too, but it’s better to have the head of the company… at the head of the company. Furthermore, my father tends to get airsick every now and then, so it’s better if I handle those affairs,” Brienne explains.

“So, I assume that you are now enjoying your free time, or else you’d hardly drive your motorcycle around Westeros, huh?” Jaime chuckles, nodding at the bike.

“I am on holiday indeed, but the fact that I am riding motorcycle is not the indication as much as is that I am riding my own. You see, when I am around towns, I normally rent a motorcycle or at least a scooter to get from A to B. I find that far easier than cars at times. I almost never have to bother about finding a big enough parking lot,” Brienne explains.

“That does have its merits indeed.”

“Well, I wanted to do a road trip, so I took the ferry from Tarth to the mainlands, and then continued by bike.”

“Oh really? So, the both of us are on a road trip. Now what a coincidence is that?” Jaime calls out in a jovial voice. “To where are you headed?”

“Well, at first I was headed to Highgarden and back, but once I was there, I realized I’d been far ahead of schedule, so I thought I might just as well travel around as far as I got until I reached my actual time frame, and then head back from there. Maybe the Shield Islands or Oldtown, maybe. I’ve never been there. I heard it’s supposed be a beautiful place, especially the Citadel. I didn’t really plan that in all detail just yet. I just wanted to get on the Ocean Road first,” Brienne tells him, before biting her lip uncertainly. “And you?”

“Oldtown was the destination I was aiming for, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Curiously, we seem to have a lot in common,” Jaime hums.

“… I suppose… Do you drive motorcycles?”

“I have a license, but I didn’t do it for years, to be honest.”

He did it during his _wild phase_ , after his father said that Lannisters don’t cruise around with motorcycles, for some reason Jaime cannot remember now. All that Jaime recalls is that this only sparked his defiance, so he enlisted for courses the next day. He made sure not to tell Tywin until he got his license and purchased a _Harley Dayne_ in the reddest red with the shiniest golden stripes to the sides he could find to roll up at the family residence for a family meeting for his dramatic entrance.

It would be a lie to say that Jaime didn’t enjoy himself that night, if only to see his father simmering beneath the surface as he tried his best to keep up the charade that this was perfectly normal and within his interest, when in fact he knew this was a direct opposition his precious firstborn son posed.

At some point Jaime grew out of his rebellion phase, and “succumbed to the dark side” as Tyrion tends to call it. The _Harley Dayne_ , since then, sits in his garage, untouched, roaring its defiance only during those small moments when Jaime ventures through the garage to stop for a moment and think back to when driving that vehicle felt strangely liberating, even if, in fact, it was not much more than Jaime being a rebellious adolescent.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Oh, you know, for me it was more about being rebellious. I suppose I grew out of those shoes by now,” Jaime replies, offering a lazy smile.

Even though he somehow finds himself fancying to bring the _Harley Dayne_ back to life now.

“Did you?” she asks, not really believing him. Jaime laughs, “Not completely, but… well, once you get a car, you just end up buying cars from then on, I reckon.”

Brienne nods slowly, glancing at the engine another time. “Do you have a tool kit?”

“Yes. Wait a second, I’m going to get it.” Jaime says as he motions to the trunk to take out the big, heavy case. At some point he hopes that the fact that he bought the biggest they had in store will now come to pay off. He brings it back to the front to put down on the ground and open it. “I hope there’s something usable in there?”

Brienne’s eyes wander from him to the toolbox, taking in what he has in store. “Oh yes, that’s very good. I already feared you only had one of those tiny tool boxes containing no more than a screwdriver and a bigger screwdriver. Obviously, I can’t carry around much with my motorcycle, so my kit wouldn’t have been much use.”

“It appears that I lack the knowledge, not so much the means of fixing the car.”

“And we still have to determine how far my knowledge goes,” Brienne says, picking out some tools from the box to take back up to the engine. “Can you start the engine another time?”

“Sure.”

And back around the car he goes to repeat the process. After two more gurgles, Brienne tells him to stop, so Jaime makes his way back around, enjoying the silent glee of watching of her shirt having rolled up a bit to reveal a bit of her midsection.

Maybe it’s really just the heat, but Jaime’s mind continues to run circles around the idea of pulling her up and crash his lips against hers, exploring the parts concealed by a thin cotton shirt.

And that despite the fact that he barely _knows_ the woman – and the fact that she is by far not the prettiest flower. Yet, he finds himself enthralled by her strange grace that comes from the strength of her muscled arms and back, from training and endurance, as she leans over the engine as though she knew it for years, as though she’d been riding the car with him for a long time already.

_Oh yes, the heat most definitely._

“Yeah, definitely the engine. The combustion in your engine won't spark,” Brienne mutters, easing back, rolling her shoulders a few times. “I think it might be the spark plugs.”

“What? I had the damned car checked before I went on the trip. They should have caught something like faulty spark plugs!” Jaime can’t help but pout.

Yet another thing he made certain of before he went on the trip: He went to his mechanic in Casterly Rock and told the guy to check everything so that he wouldn’t run any trouble. The guy said it was all fine and took the money with his greedy, greasy fingers.

 _And as it appears, without ever laying finger on my car_ , Jaime thinks to himself, anger bubbling hot in the pit of his stomach.

“Might be they were fine by the time they checked, I don’t know. And of course… there are some mechanics who claim to be good, but just do the absolute necessary. Though, obviously, I can’t say about your mechanic,” Brienne says, biting her lower lip. “Do you come to have some spare ones on you, maybe?”

Jaime blows out some air through his nostrils to calm down, though to his surprise, he finds it quite easy. There is something reassuring about the way Brienne speaks and moves. Jaime can’t say just _what_ it is, just _that_ it is.

“Perhaps… as I said, I bought pretty much anything in advance to be sure not to run any trouble, but I _really_ thought that the spark plugs would be fine after the check-up,” Jaime grumbles, walking back over to the trunk to dig through the next box full of spare items. He brings the whole thing back to the front, while also grabbing a water bottle from the ice box. With all that in hand, Jaime walks back to the front, putting down the box with a thud while simultaneously holding out the squishy water bottle to Brienne. “In case you are thirsty.”

“Oh, uhm, thank you,” Brienne replies, blinking, before she takes the bottle from him to take a few hesitant if hasty gulps.

“If you help fix my car, the least I can do is see to it that you stay hydrated,” Jaime says, winking at her.

“Well, I have water myself,” Brienne argues, to which he snorts, “But I bet pleasantly lukewarm or boiling.”

“Well, an ice box would have been a bit too much to carry on a sports bike,” she replies, taking a sip from the bottle.

“So my car is good for something after all, if only offering enough space for an ice box.”

“I suppose,” Brienne speaks slowly yet again, before bending down to dig through the box Jaime brought along, putting down the bottle right beside the box. “Oh, you have spare spark plugs after all. That’s fortunate.”

“Never underestimate a Lannister’s playing spoiled, entitled richboy carrying out all the things he doesn’t even know to properly use,” Jaime snorts, hugging his arms.

The more he thinks about it, the more ridiculous this whole idea becomes inside his head. He wanted to free himself of the constraints that come with the job. No rules is what he told himself would be the only rule to stick to.

Yet, Jaime planned everything in detail, every stop, every turn. _Seven Hells_ , he had _two_ lists, one for what to do before going on the trip and one with the items he thought he needed to take along.

And no matter his careful planning, here Jaime is now, with Brienne of Tarth as his only way of getting out of the middle of nowhere.

So much to his rebellious years drawing to a close – they are about as dead as the car currently still begging for the gift of mercy.

“Well, there’s not much harm in that. So long you have it, someone can fix it for you, right? You don’t have to be a mechanic to drive a car or motorcycle,” Brienne argues, her voice strangely reassuring. “Plus, you wouldn’t know how often the issue is that they don’t have the part you need, so they have to order it for you, which means that you are stuck in a Hicksville for however long it takes the mechanic to get what you need. I had that experience on a trip up North, I cannot recommend.”

“Well, I still would have appreciated knowing what to do when breaking down in the middle of nowhere,” Jaime chuckles.

“We all have bad luck sometimes,” Brienne says, shrugging.

“I seem to have luck now, though,” he says with a grin, to which Brienne answers, “It can hardly be called luck that you brought spare spark plugs. That was simply good planning.”

“I mean that you came by,” Jaime corrects her.

 _Man, that woman doesn’t seem to catch a compliment easily_ , Jaime thinks to himself, half in frustration, half in fascination.

“… That’s still not out yet. I don't know if I can fix the spark plugs. So, I should better see about that just now, or else I should better be on my way to get to the next best town to call for help,” she says hastily before resuming her work on the engine.

Jaime chuckles to himself, amused. She tries her best to keep her face away from him, likely to hide the sight of flushed cheeks from him, though Jaime can see the blush creeping up the thick column of her neck nevertheless.

Jaime leans against the side of the car, allowing his eyes to venture back and forth as Brienne busies herself with unscrewing the parts holding the spark plugs, causing rhythmic scratching and squeaking noises as she undoes she screws.

“Soooo… how do you come to have such great knowledge about mechanics if you are no professional?” Jaime asks, his eyes not averting that now revealed stretch of skin around her waist again, though he makes sure to keep his voice light and not too suggestive.

_Not yet anyway._

“Oh, that’s… a friend of my father, Goodwin, taught me when I was still younger. I was always interested in cars and motorcycles. Goodwin has a small autoshop on the isle, close to Evenfall Hall. I spent a great deal of my time sitting in his garage, watching him bring those machines back to life, or pulling out the weirdest of items people forgot in their cars when they gave it to him for cleaning thoroughly.”

“Such as?” he asks, chuckling in amusement, finding himself pulled into the little stories she is willing to share, as though they could give more familiarity to their encounter when really, they barely know each other still.

“All kinds of things. Left-over or mummified food. Jewelry under the front seat. Bills. Toy soldiers. Tickets. Some filthy… magazines someone seemingly forgot he hid there… underwear…,” she says, frowning at her own words in the most endearing of ways, at least in Jaime’s humble opinion, seemingly shocked that she just said that aloud.

“Well, people do tend to have their wild times in cars.”

“Well, I can’t say, but… judging by that one pair of underpants we once found, I was not too sure if the man took them off… for that reason…,” she argues, shuddering. “We burned them. They were not missed, I assure you.”

“So nasty and ugly.”

“And obviously used. Repeatedly. Without having seen a washing machine in an achingly long time.”

“Eww.”

“Tell me about it. But yeah, people leave all kinds of things in their cars. Coins are among the most common, but sometimes you find the strangest of things. I seriously don't know who takes a box full of worms along, or forgets to take them out before giving the car to professional cleaning.”

“Worms?” Jaime frowns.

“Yes, just… worms.”

“I don’t have a solution to that either. Might be he was a fisher?” he suggests.

“Might be. It was still _odd_ … Well, in any case. I’ve basically spent much of my childhood in Goodwin’s shop. Father didn’t approve of this at first. After all, it’s not a girl’s place. He rather would have had me sew and knit, I assume. Not that I didn't like those tasks, but… I enjoyed that a lot, too, so I wanted to stay around the shop. Father tried to forbid me a few times, with little luck. I just sneaked away first chance I got,” Brienne says with a small smile as the memories return to her.

“Yeah, fathers tend to take the fun out of things. My dear Father always insisted that I read book for book because I was not doing too well in that department in the beginning, when all I wanted to do was play outside. I suppose you can guess who learned very early on in his life how to climb out of a window and down a wall.”

“I reckon I would have done the same thing,” Brienne says with a small smile. “Well, after some time Father saw that I wouldn’t budge, so he let me. After all, he could be sure that Goodwin would look after me. That was when I started learning to actually repair cars and motorcycles. Over the years, it became a passion of mine.”

“So you have gasoline in your veins,” he chuckles.

“… One could say so, I assume. Well, my Father then made me the greatest gift ever by giving me this personalized _Royal Evenstar_. Goodwin did all adjustments necessary so that I can sit comfortably. Someone my size has quite different needs when it comes to that, so I was overjoyed to finally have a motorcycle like that. I ride it now for quite a few years, but it never gave me any severe trouble,” Brienne says, nodding over to her motorcycle, which really is a beauty of its kind.

“Lucky you. I have my car for about a year, and see trouble it gives me already,” Jaime huffs, gesturing at his _Lion Star_.

“Yeah, it’s a matter of luck really, I guess, or the lack thereof,” Brienne replies, before leaning back over the engine for the spark plugs. Jaime watches her as she uncovers the deep sockets to unscrew the plugs. “Man, those ones sit tight.”

“Need help _loosening them up_?” Jaime asks with a grin.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replies quickly. “I almost got it…”

There a plucking sound as she coils back, now holding a smeared spark plug in hand.

“And we got our first culprit,” Brienne says, twisting the plug in her hand. “Yeah, definitely leaking plugs. You should talk to your mechanic once you get back home. If he was supposed to run a thorough check, I think he should have caught that.”

“Oh, I will give him quite a scare,” Jaime says with a grin. “So that he doesn’t do that again. You know, sometimes it does pay off to inherit the reputation of your ruthless father. If you say that you will end someone, they will believe you, even if you have no such intention.”

“You don't have to threaten him,” she argues.

“Threatening is fine means, trust me, so long it doesn’t go too far. That way, he’ll make sure to do it right the next time around. If I only lecture him, he may just shut down and ignore me.”

“Well, you likely know better about that than I do,” Brienne replies, rolling her shoulders. “But for now, let’s see about it that we fix your car for now. We can think about what to do with your mechanic later.”

“True again. Though maybe I will switch. Maybe I can convince you?” Jaime chuckles.

And truth be told, the ideas become much more vivid once they manifest inside his mind. Of her working on the cars and the abandoned _Harley Dayne_ in a blue overall pulled down like this one, oil smudged on her forehead…

“I _did_ mention that I am no mechanic, right?” she snorts.

“You know enough to pass for one!” Jaime insists.

“I won’t become your personal mechanic, Mr. Lannister,” Brienne argues, shaking her head.

“Jaime, just Jaime is fine. C’mon, let’s not be too overly formal.”

“… Jaime,” she says slowly as her hand already reaches back to the engine to fish for the next culprit. After some pulling and tugging, three leaking plugs are removed, and the others confirmed as being intact.

“Lucky you, you have four in total,” Brienne goes on to say.

“Ha, would have been a pity if it had been only two.”

“Exactly,” Brienne confirms, rubbing her hands together, smearing oil over her palms. To her surprise, Jaime holds out a damp cloth to her. “To get the hands back clean. Wouldn’t want to get the oil back in the deep sockets after you expertly removed it, right?”

“… Right, thanks,” Brienne answers as she takes the cloth from him to rub her hands against the moist fabric. She turns around to rest against the hood of the car, stretching out her long, _way_ _too long to be true_ , legs. Jaime copies her movement, purposely moving a bit closer to her, though it seems to go unnoticed by her.

“So… any certain reason why you chose to do a road trip all by yourself?” Brienne asks, looking ahead.

“I just wanted to get out of a rut for a while. You will likely know the destiny yourself, but as for business life, especially as the boss’s child, there are rarely interesting changes… or changes at all. Instead, it’s the same routine day in, day out. Until you forget what day of the week it is because it makes no difference. Every day is the same anyway! And of course… people are just annoying at times. I thought some time just by myself would do me good,” Jaime explains. “Or maybe it’s just the first signs of midlife crisis, who knows?”

She chuckles softly. “Well, even if it is, I don’t see what’s wrong about a field trip every now and then. And if it is all about midlife crises, I would have see myself among the ranks, no?”

“And how about you? How comes the daughter of the great Selwyn Tarth is travelling all by herself without any bodyguard or friends to ensure she isn’t stolen away?” he jokes.

She laughs loudly at that, not looking at him, still. “First of all, who would _steal_ me? Secondly, I don't come to have many friends in the first place. Thirdly, I would rather die than let my father have bodyguards come along, though I am pretty certain he would if I didn’t constantly and absolutely refuse, and fourthly… I can very well defend myself.”

“Oh, can you?” He smirks.

“You really think I would have stopped by to help you if I didn’t know how to defend myself in case you were someone pretending to have a broken-down car to get some prey?” she huffs.

“So if you had gotten any suspicion, you would have knocked me into the dust?” Jaime chuckles.

_Strong-built **and** strong-willed. _

And if Jaime is being honest with himself, those are attributes that he appreciates a lot, a whole lot, especially the more he gets to see how they work together with her insecurity and shyness.

It’s a strange yet captivating interplay. _Almost like a dance._

“Not just into the dust. I would have knocked you out and gotten the police,” Brienne replies, a smirk dancing over her lips. “I am not taking any chances on those matters, but as I got closer, I recognized your face.”

“Oh? So you knew me even before I introduced myself? How shocking,” Jaime replies, feigning exasperation, which only has her snort again, “Your face is on pretty much every business magazine – and did I mention the huge posters in the bigger cities? It’s like you are constantly staring at people.”

“I try my best to mentally suppress that,” Jaime laughs. “I don’t know, I find it odd to look at myself, and this not being a mirror. Needless to mention that the posters don’t do me any justice. My head seems unnaturally big for _some_ reason. I still blame the photographer for it.”

“The scourges of being the pretty boy of the family, I assume?” Brienne laughs into the bottle as she takes a sip, the cloth resting on her lap.

“So you find me pretty? How sweet of you,” Jaime chimes, to which the blonde woman almost sputters out everything she has in her mouth.

“I just… meant to say that I wouldn’t ever have that trouble,” she says quickly, swallowing repeatedly. “They normally show our family sigil, or Father, or the Sapphire Isle as for posters or covers for magazines.”

“I am bound to disagree,” Jaime argues, waving his index finger around for emphasis. “Upon reflection, I have seen you on a business magazine as well, though I apparently have forgotten for a moment. I seem to recall quite vividly a picture of you in the _Master of Coin Weekly_ on the front page.”

Curious that he only remembers now. But then again, he reads that magazine all the while, maybe the memory just got stuck between the many pages he skimmed through for matters of the job.

“It was shot from the back, though. Something I greatly appreciated, because that doesn’t highlight the not… photogenic bits. I actually quite liked that picture, to be honest,” Brienne says meekly, seemingly uncomfortable to even admit that she liked a particular picture of herself.

And Jaime is bound to agree with this having been a really nice photograph. Now that he thinks about it, it was a truly magnificent picture. All black around her, one could only see her strong back all the way to above the waist, dressed in a blue business suit, her blonde hair cropped very short, which seemed ever the more vibrant in color due to the contrast against the black background, and tossing a blue (likely fake) gemstone in the air. She looked strong and determined, and that without even seeing her expressive eyes.

_Which is a pity, however._

It was an article about how _Tarth Enterprise_ rose to the Top 10 businesses after a decline over the last couple of years after Selwyn Tarth’s only living child made some drastic changes to business, reviving some old business ties that were for a long time neglected by the national partners in Westeros specifically. The thing with the blue gemstone was more of a joke referring to the interview the _Master of Coin Weekly_ included in the article, where Brienne pointed out that some people, to this day, still seem to believe that Tarth is called the Sapphire Isle for being a great sapphire mine, when in fact it only relates to the blue of its waters. 

“See? So you had to look at yourself not in a mirror just like me.”

“But from the back,” she insists.

“Maybe you can have it taken from the front next time?” Jaime suggests.

“I don’t think many people would appreciate that,” Brienne argues, offering a tensed grin that never reaches up to her eyes. “I was surprised that this picture was taken… rather well. Though we still got some mails asking why they had a guy posing for the front cover only to have Selwyn’s daughter doing the interviews.”

“Never underestimate people’s stupidity,” Jaime snorts.

“Well, I look mannish… act mannishly… there’s a lot of reason why people tend to confuse me for a guy,” Brienne argues, feigning nonchalance.

Though Jaime can sense that is far from indifferent for her. _And how should it be?_

“Well, I will admit that I wasn’t certain when you drove up to me because the overall does well to conceal… pretty much anything, but once you took off the helmet, I was most certain that you don't belong to my team,” Jaime admits.

“Uhm, some don’t… see that, even if I take the helmet off.”

“More than some are assholes, then.”

Brienne doesn’t reply anything. Instead, she pushes up from the hood of the car to bend down to grab the new plugs. “We should better finish this up.”

_Talk about trying to escape either compliments or personal problems._

“Take your time. It’s not like I have to be somewhere. That is the advantage of road trips. You don’t have to stick to schedule, right?”

“Well, for that, you seemed to have planned it very much in detail,” Brienne argues.

“Didn't you?” Jaime asks.

His best guess was that Brienne would still have everything planned – just better than he did. She seems to be the type to always have a plan in the back of her head, a schedule to follow.

“Surprisingly… not, actually,” Brienne says, smiling at herself almost in confusion. “Normally, I am very, _very_ organized. Some call it pedantic, even. But once I am on the road… I don’t know. I just drive a general direction and don’t care about where that road takes me. As you say, I don't have to be somewhere specific to enjoy myself along the way. The not so fun part only comes once you have to make your way back, because then you do have to stick to schedule. So that is when you’ll have me planning a lot more carefully. But on the way there? Not so much. I don’t know, I suppose that's the only way that this feels like a holiday to me, really. Once I can… let go of all those constraints, just focus on the asphalt, the smell of gasoline, the humming of the engine, my bike… myself… and the road ahead.”

“I reckon I should adopt that notion for my next field trip,” Jaime says, smiling. “Perhaps I have more luck, then.”

“Maybe you should try a motorbike trip next time,” she suggests.

“If you accompany me – and help me touch up on my skills? Who knows?”

Brienne curls her lips into a frown, knitting her eyebrows, before she occupies herself with the plugs again, making sure not to look at him as she speaks, “… Didn’t you grow sick of road trips after such experience? Breaking down in the middle is one of those things that makes people shy away from that after having made that experience.”

“I may have considered as I sat there, all alone, boiling in the summer heat, awaiting sure death from heatstroke, an insect bite, or utter boredom, but _now_? If motorcyclists like you come to my rescue? It’s ever the more worth to risk breaking down with your car in the middle of nowhere,” Jaime argues, smirking.

Yet again, there comes no reply from her, seemingly sensing the implications he put into the statement. Brienne pushes in the last spark plug, averting her gaze to the best of her abilities.

“I mean, we may mix work and pleasure, you see?” Jaime goes on.

_Now or never._

“Plea… you mean to say?” She glances at him incredulously.

“Well, I think the business ties between _Lannister_ and _Tarth Enterprise_ have been pretty much as dead as my car was a while back,” Jaime begins, though she interrupts him, “Still is.”

“I trust you,” he replies bluntly, the words rolling from his tongue with unexpected ease.

“Oh,” is all Brienne brings out as a reply, her eyes wide as she focuses on him.

Seemingly, few have told her that until now.

“Consider this: From what I heard about your new approach, you want to revive old business ties. Yet, we two did not make the acquaintance until now. So it would be in both our interest to have negotiations on the matter, wouldn’t you agree? Because I can say that one thing for certain, _Lannister Enterprise_ is definitely one of the big players,” Jaime says, allowing his eyes to dance over her body yet again, for once enjoying the heat spreading throughout him as a result.

 “I am aware,” Brienne replies curtly. “You have one of the greatest sales figures in all of Westeros. I think I read in the _Master of Coin Weekly_ that you managed to surpass your record that was set for the past ten years this year.”

“We did indeed. So, you see, it would be a pity not to consider the mutual benefit our companies may gain from an _intimate_ cooperation,” Jaime goes on to say, this time making sure to leave no doubt in his implications.

“… You can now try to start the engine again,” Brienne replies, a little louder than necessary, swallowing thickly. Jaime chuckles to himself. Her verbal squirming is about as entertaining as is to watch the rippling of her muscles once she senses that his eyes are on her the whole time.

“As my lady commands,” Jaime whistles as he makes his way to the driver’s side to start the engine. At first, it makes the same noises as usual, but after two more tries, it roars like a lion, befitting of its name.

“You did it!” Jaime cries out, overjoyed.

Brienne steps back from the car a bit, running the back of her hand over her forehead so not to smudge oil on her face. “Well, gladly, it was only just the spark plugs. If it had been greater damage, I don’t think I would have been able to fix it.”

“I owe you a debt.”

“Oh no, don’t… bother, it's nothing,” Brienne argues, gesturing with her hands.

“That you saved me from having to camp in the wilderness is surely not nothing to me.”

“I just meant to say… doesn’t matter. I am glad I could be of help, that’s all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t ever know of how much help you were to me.”

“Well, I suppose my work here is done, then,” Brienne says, clapping her hands together. “I’d advise you to still go see a mechanic once you get to the next town, to be sure that everything is in place. Or else the car breaks down again.”

“I was definitely planning on that, though I am sure that you and your magical hands did the job outright,” he replies with a grin.

“… I… hope so. In any case, I think I should be on my way, then, as you should be on yours,” Brienne says uncertainly, the blush on her cheeks undeniable. “Uhm, I can obviously make arrangements to discuss about a business meeting if you really wish to.”

“Oh, I most definitely wish to. I am indeed quite _desperate_ to see that happening.”

“… Okay, then… I suppose… I will get back to your staff to schedule some meetings, I mean… a meeting,” Brienne stammers.

“Or we might discuss this straight away, in a private setting?” Jaime suggests instead.

“Mr. Lannister, I don’t really think that…”

“ _Jaime_ , we agreed on it that you call me Jaime.”

“ _Jaime_ , I don’t think it’s a good idea to…,” Brienne mutters, and Jaime completes, “Mix work with pleasure?”

“I just think I should be on my way.”

“And leave me alone here? What if my car breaks down again? And then you are not there to rescue me!” he cries out in feigned exasperation.

“… What do you propose, then?” Brienne asks slowly.

“That we should band together, obviously.”

“Well, I suppose I could drive with you to the next town, then we can be sure that you make it there to see about a mechanic, upon reflection… to be sure…,” Brienne mumbles, her mouth barely moving as she speaks.

“That sounds _very_ reassuring to me.”

“Okay, then… that still means we should be back on the road,” Brienne replies, only slightly moving her lips apart as she motions over to the hood to retrieve her gloves, which she laid upon it as she was checking on the engine.

Before she can move away, however, Jaime circled in on her, his hands holding on to the hood as he looms above, trapping her between him and the engine. Brienne looks at him aghast, her big blue eyes incredibly wider and brighter, even though his body makes shadows dance over her pale skin.

“Alright, I will be very honest, _very_ straightforward now, Brienne,” he announces.

“… By which you mean to say?” she brings out, swallowing, flat chest heaving in the most tantalizing of manners to Jaime, because he can see almost everything underneath that he’d want to touch right now.

“If I am being honest with myself, I want to kiss you, right now… possibly more… _likely_ more than that,” he goes on to say, which earns him a sharp intake of air from her. “But I am aware that this is… perhaps a bit rushed… _very_ rushed, actually, so… I give you this fair warning now. I wouldn’t want to cause you any discomfort.”

“We barely know each other,” Brienne stammers, the air catching in her throat, and Jaime really wants to just kiss her and pull her close. Maybe it’s really just the heat making him mad, but Jaime doesn’t care.

If the road gives him this route, he is _more_ than willing to ride it, all the way to the end.

“I think, against the odds of only having met just now in person, we do know quite a bit about each other, and apparently, we knew each other in some way even before you came to my rescue, riding on your motorbike, even if it was just from the _Master of the Coin Weekly_ magazine. And I may add that after I saw your cover, I felt the wish to meet you, but sadly… I didn’t get to it… just yet anyway.”

“You mean that.” Brienne looks at him incredulously.

“Against the odds of being a Lannister, I am one of the most honest of my clan. So if I say that I mean it, I mean it. And I _do_ mean it.”

If possible, her eyes widen even more, the blue almost pouring out of those orbs.

“But, as I said, it depends on you,” Jaime goes on.

Brienne bites her lower lip, sucks it into her mouth, her mind seemingly racing through the information just received, which is about as endearing as it is torturing for Jaime, waiting for a reply, because he really, really wants to kiss her now. The longer it takes, the more he wants it, actually.

“I don’t ever do that.”

“Trust me, this is not my usual style either. But… sometimes chances arise and you either use them or not. I am just seizing the moment. And you?”

_What road are you going to take, Brienne, hm?_

“… I… okay,” Brienne says after an almost unbearably long pause, seemingly not quite believing herself as the words tumble out of her mouth.

“Okay?” Jaime questions, meaning to make _really_ sure.

“Okay,” Brienne repeats, now more resolutely.

That is all that Jaime needs to hear before leaning down to claim her lips with fervor, pleasantly surprised at the apparent eagerness that is instantly returned to him. Jaime hums low in his chest as he deepens the kiss.

_Who could have guessed that this road trip would take **such** a turn? _

Though Jaime welcomes that turn of the road _more_ than a lot the longer their kiss lasts, the more they pull each other close, the more the heat of the sky melts together as one with the heat of their skins.

Jaime lets go of the hood to grasp Brienne in the back and by the thick hip to pull her away from the engine and closer to him. Jaime drags his teeth down the side of Brienne’s face to resume kissing down her neck this time, which only earns him the sweetest of mewls brushing against his ears.

The two dance-kiss to the side of the car facing away from the road – Jaime reckons Brienne appreciates being a bit more out of view. While he can’t imagine that anyone will come by anyway, after three years of absolutely nothing, Brienne seems to be the shy type after all, and he is not taking any chances in that regard. For that, his body needs her close to him, in just that way, right now, way too much, _way, way, too much_.

His hand resting on her lower back slowly snakes upwards, beneath the white cotton shirt, Brienne’s skin all gooseflesh against the odds of the heat raining down on them from a cloudless sky, which is impossibly thrilling for Jaime, sending spikes of electricity through his body. He traces his finger up and down her ribcage, feeling every bump, every rise and fall. Brienne gasps, eyes closed, leaning her head against his as Jaime keeps peppering the thick column of her neck with kisses, gently biting here and there.

He is relieved and ever the more thrilled once Brienne seemingly gathers her courage to allow her hands to roam across his body as well, but then she suddenly coils back from him as though electrocuted. Jaime tilts his head with a grimace.

“You can keep doing that,” Jaime sighs against the side of her neck. “It’s _very_ much appreciated.”

“I’ll only get oil on your shirt,” she argues – and he has to try hard not to laugh.

“I couldn’t care less so long you keep doing _that_ ,” Jaime moans low in his throat, tracing his fingers up and down her spine for emphasis. It takes Brienne another few moments before her big hands start to roam again, slow at first, but gaining more and more confidence the longer she allows her fingers to slide over his body, squeezing his narrow hip or the small inward curve where the shoulder meets the torso, leaving greasy stains along the way.

Jaime kisses his way back to her mouth, nostrils flaring as he deepens the kiss impossibly more. He can’t remember ever having felt like this kissing a woman until this very moment, and the regions below his belt seem to agree on that point, a lot.

_A whole lot._

“Gods, Brienne, we should have met ages ago,” he grunts against the corner of her mouth once has to pull away to suck in the much-needed oxygen, his lungs screaming for it, while his body is already screaming to kiss her mouth again. “What I missed out on, not having met you until now.”

“You can’t… help coincidence, I suppose,” Brienne manages to bring out, her chest heaving erratically, her eyes almost bursting with blue and what Jaime tends to read as arousal and need.

_Yes, most definitely the heat, the heat of the moment taking the lead._

“That may be,” Jaime chuckles, kissing against the corner of her mouth lightly. “So I better see to it not to take chances with you ever again.”

He allows his hand to slide to her front, brushing over an erect nipple, eliciting the most delicious of moans from the tall woman in his arms.

“So you didn’t put on a bra, even? Such a tease, Brienne,” Jaime laughs with the most wicked of grins.

“It makes no sense with such a small bosom,” she breathes throatily.

“I find it about just right, though I agree that this is more than convenient just now,” Jaime hums, repeating the motion to add to his point. “And I enjoyed that little tease of yours throughout.”

“I _wasn’t_ teasing,” Brienne insists.

“Not on purpose, maybe, but it took me about all of my self-control to not just do what we are doing right now maybe some thirty minutes back,” Jaime says, his voice heavy and dark, pinching the nub slightly for emphasis, only to have her gasping again.

 _So responsive, that one_ , Jaime muses, already looking forward to finding out what other responses he can coax out of her.

“I was _not_ doing this on purpose,” she argues vehemently. “Most guys don’t… even look at me in… that way.”

Jaime pulls away from her mouth at once to look her deep in the eye. Brienne glances at him, blinking at the sudden pause, seemingly at a loss, so Jaime goes on to say, “Just to be straight on the matter, Brienne: There are no men like me, just me. So whatever you think about other guys or what you think they see in you… does not apply to me. Can we agree on that?”

“… I suppose,” she whispers, shyness taking the lead, pushing the certainty of her movements into the back of her body.

Though Jaime is more than willing to coax the sureness back to the front. 

“I think I didn't quite get that,” Jaime argues, running his hand over the hollow of her back with a feather-like touch that makes her shudder against him at once.

“Alright,” Brienne brings out, almost shouts, screwing her eyes shut. Jaime smiles as he resumes kissing her, gentler this time, hoping to give gravitas to his words by being a bit less of a tease… for a moment or two.

Because the longer Jaime kisses her, the more skin his fingers get to explore, the more he wants this to continue, beyond that short intermezzo by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere.

 _Maybe my old man had the rights of it after all, pondering on finding myself a girl for the Lannister Empire_ , Jaime thinks to himself, amused almost. _Even though I’m not entirely sure what he will think of me coming back from a holiday with a partner, and not just the business type of partner._

But it makes no difference now, and neither does Jaime find it in himself to care right at this moment. His mind is soon, and gladly so, overtaken by nothing but Brienne, the sensation of her skin rubbing against his, her uncertain, yet bolder growing squeezes and touches, calloused yet surprisingly gentle fingers finding their way beneath his shirt to trace along the muscles there.

_Father shall be damned, he’s got no space here. Ever._

Jaime allows the hand not holding her in the back to keep her close to him to venture further, edging down her side with the smallest of curves of a hip, thick, hard, and strong with trained, defined muscles.

And until now, Jaime didn’t know how maddening this could be for him, never having met a woman like Brienne before, but now that he holds on to those muscles, gets a taste of that strength, he finds it hard to imagine to ever go without ever again.

As though some roads simply closed down for him, leaving nothing but this one open for him now, and Jaime just wants to travel down that path, to wherever it is going to take him.  

“You work out, I assume?” he asks, giving a teasing squeeze to her muscled thigh.

“Mixed Martial Arts,” Brienne replies, or rather only breathes, tugging at his shirt. “And you?”

“Boxing,” Jaime says, grinning, allowing his hand to slip back up again. He drags one long finger along the seam between the legs of her overall, which has Brienne struggling for air as she almost _throws_ herself against him, breathing frantically. While Jaime can’t imagine that she can feel at all too much through the thick leather of the overall, her responses are so strong that he envisions with a moan how ready she must be for him. And that thought alone sends his mind reeling.

_Yeah, the heat. The heat. Nothing but the heat._

Jaime soon enough palms at the area he wants access to most at this moment, making sure to keep the pressure high to leave no doubt that this is what he wants with every fiber of his being, and to ensure she can feel it even through the layers of cloth.

Brienne’s hips buck against his hand, against him with all her might, and Jaime can feel every push against his own hips, which only adds to his frenzy gaining peak after peak.

“Seven Hells,” he mutters into the nape of her neck, pushing her towards the car, not once letting his hand slip away from her to continue his ministration, intent to open the door to push her down on the back seat of his _Lion Star_ to move things up a gear.

_Or two… or three._

However, once they bump against the car, both cry out simultaneously.

 **_Damn_ ** _the heat!!!_

“Never underestimate a car standing in the sun all day long,” Brienne hisses, wincing against the sting in her back. Jaime shakes out the hand with which he held her back.

“That was not the best of decisions, I fear,” Jaime laughs, brushing his hand over her back a few times to ease some of the burning sensation.

“You don’t say?” Brienne snorts, though he is glad that she doesn’t seem to begrudge him for it. In fact, he is ever the more excited about her smile. It has something to it that shines as bright as her eyes. While not quite beautiful, it’s no less capturing.

Indeed, it pulls him right in, Jaime has to realize.

It’s like a road not marked down on any map, taking you right to the blue waters of the ocean.

And that thanks to a woman he barely knows, only met in person today, and whom he, for a short moment, actually believed to be a guy.

That road trip keeps surprising him over and over again, and Jaime welcomes the surprises unfolding before him more than words can say.  

“Maybe we should just open the door and continue this… where there is not so much scaling hot metal to burn off our skin,” Jaime suggests, winking at her. Brienne blows air up to push some of the locks sticking to her skin out of her face, offering another smile reaching all the way up to her brilliant blue eyes. “It’d likely serve both our safety.”

And there is the confidence Jaime was looking for back in her gaze, back in the way she moves. It fits her much better than those shy, downcast glances. While there is something endearing about them, the bolder Brienne makes him ache for her instantly, Jaime has to realize.

“I am glad that we agree on the important matters, Brienne,” he chuckles, using his left hand to open the door while his right palm means to resume its place snug between her legs, but Brienne teasingly pushes his hand away to kiss him while squeezing it with a familiarity that Jaime believes to be even more intimate than those heated touches from a minute ago, no matter how much he appreciates them, _obviously_.

There is a curious, innocent, sweet nature about this tough woman who is all muscles, steel, and gasoline beneath pale skin and big blue eyes. And Jaime finds himself captivated by it to the point that he hopes that this road trip never ends again.

It’s this dance, really, the unknown interplay between those forces at work within her that take his breath away the more he watches, the more he discovers, the more he brings to the light shining down on them without clouds throwing any shade.

“Can you quit that smug smile of yours, though?” Brienne huffs once she pulls away.

And apparently, there is a good portion of sass and tease in that woman as well, which is ever so appreciated.

_I love a good challenge after all._

“I fear not,” Jaime says, pulling her closer to him. “For that, I am way too smug about having been granted such a woman coming to rescue me. Oh, and by the way, I do mean to stand by my promise.”

“What promise?” she asks, frowning.

“That I owe you a debt,” Jaime replies with a wicked grin, pressing himself against her so that she can feel his _need_ coming to stand to attention below the belt, only to sneak his right hand between them, reaching further down, Jaime’s fingers aching to touch anything but the leather parting him from his actual goals. “I will repay you to the best of my abilities.”

“That sounded all kinds of lame and… filthy,” Brienne snorts, trying her best to keep her grimace blank, despite the fact that her body keeps betraying her as Jaime can feel her hip twitching against his index finger, even though he isn’t moving it much at all.

“I like it how you say _filthy_ ,” he chuckles darkly, running his thumb over the area where he assumes that most sensitive nub must be hiding beneath layers of cotton and leather.

“That… doesn't make your line any better, though,” Brienne brings out.

 _Seemingly I am not the only one fond of a good old challenge_ , Jaime muses, unable to help the smile continuing to play around the corners of his mouth. _Which is ever the better. If both are up for a challenge, the reward is going to be ever the greater._

“It may not have been very creative, I will admit,” Jaime says, dragging two fingers over the seam of the leather suit, which is warm and soft to his touch, bringing Brienne to shudder against his grasp, no matter how well she manages to keep up eye contact with him, her face not once betraying her no matter the quivers running through the rest of her body. “But that doesn’t make it less true that this is what I intend to do.”

“That still doesn’t make it sound much better,” Brienne argues, her voice betraying her at last, ebbing into a squeal once Jaime does quick work to remove his hand to pull down the zipper of her suit the lowest possible to have better access, letting his fingers slide into the space between leather and what Jaime reckons are _cotton_ panties.

Brienne fumbles around nervously as his fingers continue their adventure into unknown territories, all those places not marked down on any maps, feverishly trying to find something to hold on to as her hip keeps bucking against his touch no matter how much she still tries to keep her expression blank.

Jaime reckons he might help her a little, so his free hand finds hers, his fingers threading through the spaces between hers to guide her grasp to his hip to hold on to. Her other hand soon finds his shoulder to keep balance, while her body wrecks freely now as his fingers brush over the panties to the hollow where he knows his final destination to be, wriggling his hand back and forth a few times to push the leather further down to grant more access.

Jaime removes his hand from Brienne’s after gently stroking across the back of her hand once to give back some of the intimacy with which he squeezed his previously, to resume its space in the hollow of her back to be sure that she can push against him without falling over.

Because Jaime has any intention to keep holding her.

He is strong enough, after all.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me right at this moment, Brienne,” Jaime mutters as he buries his nose in the nape of her neck, his fingers tracing along her slit through the cotton, which is slick to his touch, leaving no doubt about her apparent need for him the same way he is aching for her.

“Someone seems to be enjoying herself alright, against the odds of a bad line,” Jaime hums, dragging the blunt fingernail of his thumb over the cloth, creating an almost obscene squishing sound that has Brienne gasp.

“I didn't quite hear you,” Jaime chuckles, pressing the pad of his middle finger to where he felt her opening while swiping across her slit, which only makes Brienne grunt against his ear, hot puffs of air against his face, her hands holding on to him almost bruising, which Jaime finds himself enjoying ever the more.

Jaime rubs back and forth over her panties, only to feel her shift forth and back against his touch, both establishing a strange sort of rhythm between them.

“Shut up,” she brings out under much strain. “Still a bad line, no way of changing it. Also, I think I am not the only one.”

For emphasis, she tugs at his crotch, sending bolts of electricity all the way to his hairline, to which he bellows out a laugh, leaving no doubt that she is right on point in that assessment. “Oh, you can be certain that my want is _truly_ great, or else I wouldn’t do this right now.”

“Oh, so if we had met under different circumstances, you wouldn’t want to do it?” Brienne asks, her voice teasing, though there is the slightest tone of anxiety hiding beneath the sarcasm, no matter how well she tries to conceal it behind the crooked smile, and yet another brush of her big hands against his aching member eager to get out of the constraint of his jeans.

Jaime is quick to press his lips to hers, parting them to let his tongue dart through to keep her from saying any more of that sort, pulling away only once he allows his index finger to join the adventure down below, now stroking on either labium, only forcing more juices to flow and incoherent curses to roll from Brienne’s lips.

“If we had met under different circumstance, my dear Brienne,” Jaime says, his voice heavy with need, but lacking not an ounce of certainty, clarity, which he knows he needs to make himself clear to her, to make her understand, see. “I would have shown you all courtesies, as it befits people of our rank. I would have asked you out for a date and I would have brought flowers. _Obviously_. I am not some classless lech. _That’s_ what would have been different.”

Brienne’s eyes meet his, her pupils dilated, her cheeks colored in the most luxurious of pinks. If it is even possible, her eyes shine even more as Brienne keeps her eyes trained on him, shimmering even more than the fake sapphire they used for her cover shoot.

Her eyes are searching for reassurance, and Jaime is happy to give her just that.

“But the problem is,” Jaime goes on, now rubbing both fingers between her swollen lips, to which Brienne almost shouts, if not for her own self-constrain keeping the upper hand. “That I can’t seem to stop myself now that we began, so we will have to prolong the dating and flowers until after I stood by my promise here, I fear. _That_ is what I mean. Normally, I would do things the _very_ proper way with you, but you… you drive all my sense away, Brienne.”

Down a road he doesn’t know, dark and hot, leaving only her ahead of him, granting Jaime no other choice but to chase her down that path until there is light again.

“You must be joking,” she insists, though it comes out more as a helpless mewl.

“I am not,” Jaime assures her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, tracing back to her mouth. “Not at all.”

“But…,” she means to say, however, Jaime stops the doubt to formulate as he tugs her panties to the side then to finally gain access to the heated flesh he has been aching to touch for what feels like eternities now, so slick with her arousal that his fingers glide across he pubes with absolute ease to resume their space between her swollen lips.

Brienne writhes against him as his fingers continue to explore, sliding up and down the length of her slit, holding on to him with such delicious desperation that Jaime fears he might come undone here on the spot every now and then.

_The heat. Yes, yes, yes. The **heat**. _

“Oh Gods,” she brings out, gasping, trying to buck away from him, away from the sensation, but Jaime keeps his hand deftly in her back to push her back to him and his fingers. “No, no, no shying away from me now. I am not nearly done yet.”

“Then do it already,” Brienne huffs, her need apparent. “C’mon, stop being a tease.”

“Where’d be the fun in that?” Jaime scolds playfully. “The least I can do is to reward you for fixing up my car, saving my life.”

“I wasn’t.” She rolls her eyes.

“You’d have no idea how you saved me today,” Jaime mutters into the nape of her neck.

He doesn’t yet know himself just _how_ , but he knows _that_ she did.

“I will… c… come if you don't act quickly,” she brings out once Jaime’s fingers press against the now also slick nub. Yet again, she tries to flinch away from his touch, but Jaime won’t let her escape, won’t let her slip away from him.

“Then so you come,” he argues, pressing against her back again to make her stand up straight again. “And then I make you come again… and again…”

“What did I say about that grin of yours?” Brienne grumbles, though the huff soon ebbs into a long moan as Jaime resumes his ministration, making sure to pay special attention to her clitoris, running his index finger alternatively to either side of the nub, only to press over it gently, then a bit harder, slickening it up further as the arousal keeps pooling in her panties and in his palm.

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can,” she pouts.

“I swear by the Seven above that I can’t.”

Brienne kisses him, then, seemingly to make him shut up. Jaime hums against her lips, running his index finger from her clit all the way to the back of her vagina, coaxing every twist, every quiver out of her as the pad of his finger traces every slick bump of her heated flesh, squeezing down on him, eager for more, eager for him, no matter how much Brienne still tries to deny it herself.

Though Jaime is very much set on casting that denial out of her mind, out of her body, leave it in the roadside ditch, so he makes sure to keep his hand steady on her back to ensure that she doesn’t escape his touch when he is about to bring her the pleasure part of the mix of _work and pleasure_. Jaime allows his index finger to trace over her clit once more, swiping the collecting juices to her entrance to smoothly ease his digit inside her.

Brienne shouts, surprised, though unmistakably, her voice overflows with about as much passion as does the arousal collecting in Jaime’s palm. He presses the heel of his hand against her mound as he shallowly thrusts his index finger inside her, making sure not to cause her any discomfort, or move on to the next step before she is ready for it.

There are still so many roads to travel, seemingly countlessly many, and they all run down her, through her. And Jaime wants to discover as many as he can, make a private map for no one but himself.

“Do you like that?” he asks, although he knows the answer, judging by the way she thrashes against him even though it is only one finger in her, not moving too much.

_Yes, responsive much, Brienne of Tarth. Who could have guessed?_

She only nods her head frantically, unable to meet his gaze, eyes screwed shut.

“Do you want me to do… _more_?” Jaime questions next, allowing his index finger to reach a bit deeper, rubbing against her inner walls, which instantly clutch on to his digit, sucking him in deeper. “What was that?”

“Quit that already,” Brienne moans, her voice quivering, knocking him in the shoulder lightly from her perspective, though it’s still quite a blow from a woman as strong as her. Yet, Jaime doesn't mind, in fact it only fuels his enthusiasm.

“I am just trying to ensure that it’s pleasure for you, dear,” Jaime argues, laughing lightly.

No matter how imperfect this occasion for a first time between the two may be, Jaime is set on making it well worth it nevertheless. So that this road is never forgotten again.

“Then… just do… don’t talk so much,” Brienne brings out. “You talk too much. Way too much.”

“Hm, I know a remedy for _that_ ,” he laughs, pressing his lips to hers, swallowing the scream once his middle finger joins the other digit deep inside her entrance, rubbing circles against the spongy area there, pumping in and out in synchrony with her clenching down on his fingers, the heel of his hand busily pressing against her mound.

Brienne clutches at him helplessly as he keeps caressing her tender flesh, likely leaving bruises as she goes, muttering his name between gulps of air.

His thumb finds her nub again, rubbing against it at no particular rhythm. Jaime can feel it growing harder and bigger as he keeps running the digit across it, just like he can feel her shift against the sensation of his fingers inside her.

“Stop fighting it, Brienne,” he whispers into her ear once he feels her edging away form his touch the moment on he can feel a pull announcing a wave of release. Jaime drags the hand resting on her back up to the side of her face, gently stroking along the strong line of her jaw. Her eyes open wide at that sensation, looking him right in the eye as she bucks against his hips helplessly as his fingers find that one spot that seems to drive her crazy.

Jaime cups her chin to guide her lips back to his. Brienne shouts her release into his mouth as she comes undone, the tunnel around Jaime’s fingers tightening, the heat so pleasantly unbearable that he can feel a wet patch forming in his pants just from watching her.

Brienne quivers from the aftershock while Jaime keeps rocking his fingers inside her to ease her through the orgasm, dragging his thumb over her clitoris once to elicit a heated hiss from her, Brienne’s entire body overly sensitive to his touches, still. The tall woman sinks against him slightly, resting her sweat-soaked forehead in the hollow between his shoulder and neck.

“Better than your line promised most definitely,” she brings out between gulps of air, making Jaime chuckle as he eases his fingers out of her, only to make her shout at the sudden loss of contact. Jaime’s grin grows to the point of ridiculousness as he sucks his digits one by one, much to her pouting.

“I keep my promises, you see,” he says, pushing against her to move her back over to the car again. Brienne simply follows his lead, either still too overtaken by her senses to fight back, or succumbing to the pleasure already.

Which is fine to him in either case, because both routes lead to the same destination.

Jaime helps her ease down on the backseat. Both are glad that the door stood open for a while thanks to their… _little moment of heat_ before entering the inside of the car… so that the hot, stuffed air is no longer as suffocating, reminding of a sticky sauna more than anything else.

Though then again, Jaime reckons he wouldn’t have cared even if it had quite literally taken his breath away, so long he can hear those moans and feel her against him, with him.

“Are you all set there?” Jaime asks, letting honest concern show. “Or is the seat still to heated-up? I wouldn’t want you to get stuck against the leather.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him quickly.

“That’s a relief. There is still _so_ much left to do,” Jaime chimes, before standing back up. Brienne’s eyes follow him, her confusion apparent.

“No worries, I will be right back with you, my lady,” he tells her. “I just want to add some fairness to the game.”

He does quick work to struggle out of his shirt, tossing it into the dirt, reckoning she may feel less at a loss when she is not the only one unclothed. _If in different places_.

“You also could have tossed it on the front seat, you know?” Brienne says bluntly, looking at the abandoned shirt, leaning on her strong forearms covered in a sheen of sweat.

“It’s over with oil stains now anyway, and I have enough with me to spare,” Jaime replies, flashing a dark grin before leaning back into the car, looming above her to reclaim her already bruised lips. Jaime is glad to get a bit of friction as he slides against her thigh to get some relief for his already aching member, but the rule is patience. He wants this one to count.

He wants to travel as many paths as he can before arriving where he wants to be, _needs_ to be.

“Still a waste,” Brienne argues against his lips.

“I will pick it up later if it pleases you,” he bargains, enjoying the switch to lightness, those short intermezzos that seem to establish and reassure them both in a familiarity they shouldn’t yet have, but somehow… do.

“It’s your shirt, not mine,” she huffs.

“Well, _sweetling_ , if things continue the way they do right now, it may well be that all that is mine will be yours and everything that's yours will be mine little time from now.”

“That’d be a _bit_ rushed, don’t you agree?” Brienne rolls her eyes at the reference to the old wedding vows still used by the traditional people around Westeros.

“That depends on how fast we travel the road,” Jaime argues, grinning. “But then again, you might have a point. We _shouldn’t_ rush things.”

Brienne stares as he kisses down her neck, her cleavage, while tugging up her shirt to reveal the muscles of her midsection hiding underneath, tracing the outlines with his fingertips as he keeps moving down further and further.

“ _At all_.”

Jaime hooks his arm under the backs of her knees to pull Brienne with him on the seat slightly, to which Brienne lets out a squeal of surprise as her booted feet come to stand solidly on the gravel, her rear still comfortably sat on the backseat, a part of it is sticking out, just the way Jaime needs it.

He makes quick work to tug at her leather suit, which proves to be difficult enough, as tight as that thing sits, but with a little wriggling and pulling, he can push it down to below her knees to allow for considerably free movement for Brienne.

“White cotton panties are _by far_ my favorite. You seem to know me well without knowing me much at all, Brienne!” he says as he finally gets a look at what he could only feel before, the panties now almost translucent from her arousal. Fine, pearly tendrils run down either side of the inside of her strong-built thighs.

Brienne crosses her legs, however, pouting, cheeks growing red with bashfulness instead of arousal. “Stop saying these kinds of things! That is embarrassing.”

She punches against his shoulder again – and yet again not very lightly so.

“There is nothing embarrassing about sex,” Jaime argues. “Unless it’s bad sex, of course, but I don’t think we are having bad sex, or _are_ we?”

“… No?” She looks at him with confusion and uncertainty.

“Good, I already thought I was the only one having fun here,” he chuckles, giving her panties a playful tug to catch a first glimpse at the golden thatch of her pubic hair, glistening with her juices.

“What did I say about less talking?” Brienne snarls, though she can’t help the sharp intake of air once the panties are pulled aside.

“Oh, you might be right,” Jaime chimes. “There is much better to do with that _filthy_ mouth of mine.”

Before Brienne can protest, Jaime tugged down the panties as well, which slap against the leather of her suit with an obscene wet slap, and pressed his lips to her mound, taking in her smell, the scent of her arousal, of _her_. Jaime darts out his tongue to sink down to her clit, which is stone-hard now, thick and round like a pearl.

Brienne whines at the sensation, throwing her head back once, but then she leans on her forearms to look at him, “No, no more teasing. C’mon, get a move now.”

She bumps her knee against his side, which only makes Jaime laugh.

_That woman is surely something._

“I am about to,” Jaime sighs. “This is just the third gear, darling. We wouldn’t any damage done to the engine by leaving out the three before moving on to the… _six_.”

“Okay, I correct myself, _that_ is the worst I ever heard,” Brienne snorts, rolling her eyes at him.

“I told you that I’d make it up to you.”

“It’s _fine_. Now just come here and…,” Brienne grumbles, but Jaime interrupts her by dragging his tongue over her slit from bottom to the throbbing nub at the front. The words die out at once, replaced by a soft moan.

“If you didn’t enjoy this as much as you do, you wouldn’t respond like that. So just let it happen. I didn't have any lunch yet, so I might just as well grab that bite,” Jaime tells her with the most ridiculous of grins flashing across his face.

“Will you just keep at it with those awful lines?” Brienne grunts, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Just so that I know?”

 _Fighting with her is about as good as sex, and sex is about as much fight with her_.

“So long you keep me from setting my mouth to a proper purpose? _Yes_.”

Brienne exhales, leaning her head back in annoyance. Jaime chuckles. He never had a woman like that before. While Jaime knows that some women take a bit of time to warm up, her squirming away from the pleasure this _obviously_ gives her is all kinds of endearing and captivating all the same.

“I can make you feel really, _really_ good – _again_ ,” Jaime hums. “If not _better_. What speaks against getting a lot more pleasure from this than just a simple fuck?”

Brienne says nothing, just covers her face with her hand as she leans back, rubbing her legs slightly before wordlessly opening them again. Jaime very well understands the meaning of that silent movement, so he resumes his position between her legs, pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs, biting down once he is short before her core, pleased to hear the soft mewls coming from Brienne.

She keeps her forearm over her eyes, taking her time to forget her embarrassment in favor of the pleasure he finds himself being able to grant her against all odds currently against them.

Jaime starts slowly at first, pressing kisses over her mound down her slit, enjoying the way her body shifts beneath his touch because she is yet again up to not wanting to move too much to give away her game.

 _So much fight, so much fight_ , Jaime thinks to himself, amused. _But I am more than intent on winning, Brienne._

 _Clearly_ , Jaime only takes this as an invitation as he kisses his way back up to her mound to flatten out his tongue to drag back down, tasting her salty-sweet juices gathering in her slit like ripe fruit to be picked by his eager mouth. Her thighs are quivering, the heavy biker boots shifting over the gravel in synchrony with his tongue, as Jaime continues lazily lapping up and down the length of her vagina.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, pulling his mouth away once, a wicked grin spreading across his face already glistening with some of her juices. Brienne does not more than whine in reply, still covering her eyes.

Jaime chuckles before resuming his self-proclaimed task, leaning down further to where her entrance is hidden behind the swollen outer lips of her snatch. He blows a cold breath against the tender flesh, bringing Brienne to shiver and whisper incoherent curses. Jaime then gently pokes his index finger between the puffy lips, his tongue right beneath it to capture the juices flowing down from where the lips held the clear liquid contained.

Brienne writhes, trying her best to stay still, muttering his name repeatedly. Though Jaime is _far_ from done with gear three just yet.

There is still some ground to cover before turning another direction down the road.

Jaime removes his index finger from that spot, only to replace it with his thumb to tug one swollen labium aside for better access, revealing the reddish, smooth flesh beneath, also puffed and glistening with the arousal bleeding out of her. He presses a kiss there first, before sucking onto the stretch of her slit now fully open to his ministration.

Brienne’s moans only cheer him on, so Jaime continues to alternate between sucking on those tender inside parts and licking across the ridges of her inner and outer labia. Brienne can do nothing much but whimper as Jaime continues mapping her with himself, pressing the flat of his hand gently yet confidently against the space between her pubic area and her belly button to keep her in place.

 _No shying away from me_ , he thinks to himself. _I want all of it, all of **you** , Brienne. _

Brienne sighs his name again and again, her fists clenching and unclenching in rhythm with the pull and push he can feel coming from her entrance, the heels of her boots digging into the gravel beneath to find leverage.

Jaime spreads her outer lips apart with index finger and thumb, eliciting a needy moan from the blonde woman who still seems somewhat like a dream becoming truer the more he touches her, becoming more of a traceable road the longer he travels, investigates, familiarizes, before digging his darted tongue into her already widened tunnel.

Brienne throws her head back, biting down on her wrist as pleasure overtakes her senses and she simply bucks against him and his clever tongue.

If Jaime is not mistaken, he can hear her recount the Seven over and over.

“Mother, Father, Warrior, Maiden, Stranger, Crone, Smith, Mother, Father, Warrior, Maiden, Stranger, Crone, Smith…”

Her clenching down on him spreads heat throughout Jaime as well, and more than anything, he wants to be where his mouth is dancing over inner walls, quivering against smooth touches and flaps of the tongue, but Jaime reminds himself that he has to make it count, that he needs her to feel the pleasure she makes him feel with merely allowing him to touch her, explore her, to travel along her.

Jaime never had that, but there seems to be no stopping now that he began that journey. And he doesn't want there to be either.

Jaime eases his tongue out of her again, though that only earns him a huff and a long, needy moan from the woman writhing above him, sliding over the leather seat already slick with her sweat. He straightens up from his crouching position to ease out the growing kinks in his legs before climbing into the car once more to reclaim her lips, letting her get a taste of herself. Brienne pulls her arm away from her eyes to look at him as he deepens their kiss, the only sounds in the world currently being those of their own heavy breaths, moans, and the occasional soft dripping sound once a drop of Brienne’s precious juices falls to the ground below on the gravel.

“Jaime,” she breathes against his lips, which brings his mind to reel. The way he whispers her name is about as captivating as her eyes. She just keeps pulling him in, pulling him along, and Jaime can’t find it in himself to slow down, to back away for only just a second.

“I think it’s time to move it up a gear again,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“Stop the car metaphors already,” she grunts in annoyance, laden with heated arousal as she keeps kissing along the stubble covering his jaw.

“As you wish. I just meant to give a fair warning before…,” he says, and in the same instant sliding his middle finger inside her all over, bringing Brienne to shout and buck against his touch blindly, craning her strong neck which he kisses feverishly, wanting it as much as everything else of her.

_The heat. Her heat. Hers, only hers._

“Oh Gods,” she brings out, her breath ragged and voice raw with desire, the Seven seemingly being the only entity she can mentally cling onto right at that moment. Jaime slides back down her body, savoring the feeling of her thigh rubbing against his aching member, a moment he drags out the longest possible to be sure not to release before he sunk his cock to where he wants it to be so very desperately.

Because this is the end of this particular road – for now anyway.

But firs things first. _Or well, second things second, upon reflection._

Jaime keeps pumping his finger in and out of her at an unsteady rhythm to be sure that Brienne cannot prepare for the next move, to catch her off-guard with every thrust of his fingers, with every moan he coaxes out of her. Jaime wants her to succumb to that feeling, to the pleasure of it, to simply do what she does otherwise when on her road trips, just travelling down the road not knowing the direction, not knowing the goal…

_And all that against the odds of doing this on a patch of gravel ground in the middle of nowhere._

Jaime rubs the pad of his finger against her inner walls which continue to clench down on him in a tantalizing manner, but he is not deterred as he keeps plunging into her soft, wet heat, relishing every sound she makes and every sloshing noise he can coax out of her quivering flesh.

Jaime brings his lips back down to her oh so sensitive nub, which has Brienne lifting her hips high in the air, screeching as his tongue still expertly finds the nub and starts sucking on it to no end other than her release, alternating between long strokes from the flexible stretch of skin at the end all the way to the hardened pearl sitting at the top, pulling it into his mouth with a small hiss blowing cool over it before granting it the heat of his own needy mouth, and tugging the precious nub back and forth and up and down with his pinched tongue, leaving Brienne almost sobbing, _though really **just** almost_.

He has his index finger join the dance between her clutching walls, wriggling, scissoring, pulling out, only to plunge right back in to the last knuckle, gently prodding at the spongy side of the walls clenching down on his digits with a wet, squishing sound that seems to translate effortlessly into a begging for more, not to stop, to keep going, because Brienne seemingly cannot say, instead just keeps her head thrown back, moving with him, against him, seeking the contact now that she tried to shy away from before.

She holds him between her muscled thighs almost with desperation as her body rises and her walls start to clench impossibly tighter around his fingers.

His name dies on her lips as her hips shoot high up in the air. Brienne shouts her release, blobs of clear liquid running down her twitching thighs to pool beneath them in a small puddle shining wetly.

Jaime continues pumping his fingers in and out of her at a slow pace to ease her through her orgasm as she quivers and writhes, sinking back down on the leather, face red, hair a mess, and the only thing Jaime can and wants to think about right at this moment, this imperfect perfection right before him, around him.

“You’d have no idea how much I want you now, Brienne,” Jaime says in a dark voice, heavy with lust and need, and the sweet pain shooting through his crotch, pooling in the bulge of his pants reinforcing the fact that his need is almost unbearable now.

Brienne looks at him for a long moment, chest heaving, face flush, sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair sticking out in all directions of the wind, still not pretty, but perhaps the sexiest thing Jaime has seen in a lifetime, her own aftershocks of lust pooling out of her eyes, dribbling out of her mouth as she swallows between intakes of air. The strap of her left shoulder fell off in her wriggling and thrashing, revealing her shoulder blade in an even more enthralling manner that has Jaime rumble low in his chest.

He _really_ wants all of her, _all of it_. Every single bit, no matter how long the road may be until he gets there.

Jaime licks over his lips to collect the last of the juices as he removes his fingers from her, though he leaves his hand resting against Brienne’s puffy outer lips, preserving the heat there, enjoying the shifting of her muscles despite the fact that her body is already calming down again.

“I don't feel my legs anymore,” is all Brienne brings out. Jaime laughs throatily. That is not exactly what he expected her to say, really.

“I am sorry. I do hope we can coax them back to life for the final gear,” he says with a grin.

“What did I say about the metaphors?” Brienne grumbles, yet again, easing right back into that strange familiarity that has Jaime believe that they have been like this for years now, as though they travelled down the same road all the time.

Though maybe they did, but just never turned left or right to see who is driving beside them?

_Who knows?_

“Alright, alright,” he exhales. “Let me help you a bit.”

“No more teasing!” Brienne cries out, eyes wide. “ _Please_. I just… can’t… anymore.”

“As you wish,” he says, offering a gentle smile, squeezing her hand softly, which lazily hangs in the legroom of the car, to assure her that it is no tease indeed, before bending down to remove her biker boots and roll the leather suit further down her ankles.

“No worries, not tossing them into the dust, I promise.”

“You better don’t, or else I will kick you right where it hurts,” Brienne warns him.

“After all the good I did you?” he pouts.

“Oh Seven Hells yes,” Brienne snorts. “No one damages my overall or boots. All custom-made to fit my needs.”

“As I said, not tossing them. See?” he says, presenting them to Brienne as though they were a trophy before throwing them on the front seat, the panty soon enough following.

“That should give your legs more freedom to move,” Jaime explains. “As I said, I am very considerate and helpful… if I have to be.”

Jaime helps Brienne push further into the car so she can rest her feet on the inside of the frame.

“You’ll have those seats a mess thanks to that, you know that, right?” Brienne says, gesturing at the fine leather of the _Lion Star_.

“That’s _so_ worth it, believe me. I won’t bemoan it for only just a second, so long it’s _you_ soiling the seats with me,” Jaime says with the dirtiest of smirks.

“Yet again, nasty,” she huffs, unimpressed, shifting her weight as she leans on her forearms.

“You are just being ungrateful.”

“No, your lines just are… nasty and lewd, which I do _not_ appreciate,” Brienne points out to him.

“Tells me the woman with no panties lying across my backseat?”

“As if you had no part in that.”

“I do enjoy our quarrels already,” Jaime whistles.

And in fact, he does.

“Whatever,” she snorts.

“So? Do you think you are ready for…,” he asks, his voice trailing off, though Brienne interrupts him, “Don’t make up another car reference or else I’ll smack you, hard.”

“Are you ready yet for another _go_?” Jaime asks with a sigh, shifting against her to get some of the much-needed friction to keep himself coherent. “Because I must say I am… _quite_ desperate for some contact of that sort myself. While it’s more than plain pleasure to have you writhing against me…you see.”

He nods at his crotch, the bulge far from deniable.

Brienne bites her lower lip, before motioning at him to join her. Jaime doesn’t have to be told twice, so he leans back over her, surprised at how easily they can move against the odds of the cramped space, as though their moving together was long since choreographed, ingrained into their minds, written on their bodies.

Jaime presses a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder before moving up to her mouth, while Brienne’s big hands busily tug at his leather belt, which feels like heaven and hell all the same to Jaime because he just wants to sink his cock to where it belongs, to the destination of this road trip, while also relishing the moment of prolonging no matter the strain it gives him.

The belt springing open is about as sweet in sound as are Brienne’s mewls brushing against his ear. Her hands routinely open the button to his jeans, pulling down the zipper in one swift movement. She palms his length through the fabric of his boxers a few times, and _yes_ , there is more than a small patch of wet now.

“You feel what you do to me, don’t you?” he moans against her ear, though it comes out more as a low growl of nothing but raw need, aching for her touch, for her. “I fear I won’t last long, so we should better get down to it, if you are okay with that?”

Brienne kisses the corner of his mouth so gently that it leaves him blinking, his eyelids heavy with arousal. “More than okay. I don't think I’ll last long either.”

“Ever the better,” he sighs happily. “Can you reach over into the center console. There should be some condoms there.”

“Oh, so you _did_ plan ahead a whole lot,” Brienne snorts, amused, seemingly enjoying the fact that his hips buck against her hand cupping the bulge in his boxers with need.

_Yes, that woman is fight through and through._

“One can never know if the woman of your dreams doesn’t ride by on a motorcycle,” Jaime chuckles. Brienne’s fingers ghost over the black console, finding the button blindly as she continues stroking his member with her free hand, making Jaime moan against her mouth. For someone who seems so inexperienced at some point, her fingers move against his cock in all the ways that have Jaime almost come undone like a premature teenager.

“Gods, Brienne,” he moans into the nape of her neck as she lets one finger ghost over the wet patch that formed and extended throughout his tending to her needs.

At last, the console pops open and Brienne starts fishing for the plastic wrapping.

“I hope I won’t find anything nasty in that console?”

“No worms to be sure.”

“Good.”

Jaime bucks his hip against her long, thick fingers, relishing the sensation of them dancing over his heated flesh, while his free hand already starts to tug down his jeans and pants, eager to finally reach the end of that road.

Brienne brings back the set of shiny wrappings. She looks at the things quizzically. “ _Seriously_? The ones with flavors?”

“My brother _insists_ that they are the best.”

“Ew.” She makes a face.

“You won't get to taste with your mouth for now anyway,” Jaime tells her hoarsely. “I won’t last if you do, I fear. So let’s just use them now and maybe get some without flavor once we hit the next town.”

“Oh, so you think there will be a next time?” Brienne asks, now flashing her own dirty grin.

“I am most certain of that by now.”

“Are you?”

“Brienne of Tarth, are you teasing a man in apparent need for you?” Jaime asks, rolling his hips against hers once for emphasis.

“I don’t know, were you teasing me before? If you did, I’d only find that serving justice,” Brienne replies with the sort of spiteful glee Jaime wouldn’t have imagined to reside within her.

 _Oh yes_ , that is most definitely the best route he could have taken. Jaime is certain of that now.

She tears off one of the packages to open it, revealing a red condom.

“Ha, Lannister Red, how fitting!” Jaime chimes, though his voice is betrayed by his ragged breaths and his member prods against her thigh with nothing but hot, burning need.

Brienne leans back on her forearms to sit up slightly before tugging down his pants to slide down to his knees to quickly roll the condom over his straining cock.

Jaime wastes no more time, for neither does he have it. He pushes Brienne back down on the seat, and kisses her deeply as he lets his hip slide down to bring his crotch between her legs, which are still slick from sweat and arousal. He props one arm up against the headrest of the driver’s seat for stability, happy to feel Brienne spread her legs for him, and even happier once he presses the tip of his member against her entrance, which is ever the readier for him, slick with her own juices, already making those sucking motions that have Jaime in a frenzy even before reaching that destination at last.

Jaime eases himself into her slowly at first, trying his best not to move too fast, which is _hard_ because Brienne is so very wet that he feels like he could slip in to the hilt if only he thrust in a bit harder, but Brienne pats him on the back. Jaime glances at her in confusion.

_The woman is impatient!_

“Move, Seven Hells,” she mutters, her lips curled into a pout that has Jaime laughing, only to send a surge of heat through him once it dawns on him just how eager they are for each other.

_No, just like there are no men like me, there are most definitely no women like Brienne of Tarth either._

Jaime doesn’t have to be told twice, so he pushes inside of her all the way, both of them moving like a ship caught in a massive wave, and Jaime feels a bit like dying at the sensation flooding his senses, her entrance clenching down on him even more than they did when he had only fingers or tongue inside her, creating the perfect pressure on his cock, easing out all pains that came from the restraint, leaving nothing but pleasure and heat.

_Only her, just her. Just Brienne._

He thrusts into her shallowly at first, steadily building up a rhythm both can sink into as their bodies join together, slapping against each other wetly. Brienne’s fingers dance over his abs, tracing the outline of them one by one as he keeps rocking into her.

Jaime clings on to the headrest with almost desperation, his fingers digging deep into the leather, his arms straining as he keeps pushing into that all engulfing, sense-depriving heat between her legs sucking in on every thrust, guiding the way over and over again. She meets him on every thrust, rotating her hips every now and then to add even more friction to the game, which has Jaime moaning, no, _roaring_ , her name.

“Gods, Brienne,” is all he can bring out between sharp intakes of air as he pulls out, only to sink right back in, to her, with a hiss. Beads of sweat gather on his forehead, fall down from the strands of his hair.

And for once, Jaime is glad to be in the middle of nowhere, so to have that moment only for them and no one but themselves as he keeps mapping her from inside out just like she familiarizes herself with roads and routes, the ways to make him moan, the ways to have him bite his lower lip as she rolls her hips at just the right angle to allow him even better access to her all-encompassing heat.

Jaime can feel his body tightening all too soon, because he would rather go on like this forever _if only_ he could.

“I’m about to come,” he breaths shallowly, his thrust strong, going all the way out only to plunge right back in now, sending them both rocking back and forth on the leather of the backseat slick with their sweat, painting their outlines on the surface.

“Me, too,” Brienne breathes, kissing against his temple. “Almost.”

 _Almost_ is not as far as Jaime knows he can still go, so he lets his left hand sneak down her side to bring his thumb down on her nub once more. Brienne shrieks in ecstasy, both having forgotten all around them, the circumstance as well as the place, as pleasure overtakes their senses, their bodies, as heat spreads throughout them, hums within them, to their very core.

Jaime rubs her clitoris with fervor, wanting to be sure that she reaches her orgasm with him.

However, that is when all thoughts turn white as his cock strains to the point of release, spilling into the condom, his cock sunk all the way into her, her walls clenching on to him so perfectly that Jaime could weep from joy.

He keeps thrusting into her now at an impossible rhythm, chasing her orgasm before his cock slackens, rolling her clit between his fingers over and over. Brienne squirms and shouts as she keeps bucking against him, one leg tugged around his back to have him thrust incredibly deeper, but then she cries his name again and again, stiffening, his member buried all the way inside her. Jaime can feel Brienne’s walls tightening around him, sending waves of pleasure through his cock all the way to his brain, milking the rest of his release out of him.

Brienne’s entrance keeps clenching and unclenching around him as her orgasm rushes through her. Jaime keeps still inside her the best he can despite the fact that her tunnel keeps milking him into a frenzy, slowly running his digit over her overly sensitive nub, watching Brienne writhe in perfect synchrony with every time he glides across her swollen clit, the waves of pleasure dying down slowly but surely as he eases her through the aftershocks rocking her body.

Jaime, unable to hold himself on top of her any longer, simply slides down to rest on top of her, their chests heaving against each other.

“Sorry, seems like you killed my legs now as well,” he brings out, chucking tiredly. In fact, they feel like jello.

“It’s alright,” she says in a soft voice, rubbing the flat of her hand over his back as she pulls him closer to her no matter the summer heat mingled with the heat of her bodies, her strong arms holding him comfortably in place, with such ease that it’s about as curious as it is comforting.

Jaime slips his cock out of her as he finds his member deflating, though he can’t help but give one long swipe of his finger across her slit as he removes himself completely, bringing Brienne to cry out in a mixture of shock, frustration, and aftershocks of ecstasy wreaking through her body despite the fact that both are spent and sated.

“Definitely better than the _WWA_. What a service!” Jaime says with a lopsided smile.

“You shut your mouth,” Brienne grumbles.

“You seem to enjoy my mouth alright, though.”

“Not so much when you are talking.”

“Well, once we recharged a bit…,” he means to say, but she cuts him off, “Nope.”

“Seriously?”

“ _Seriously_.”

“For that you seemed to enjoy yourself a whole lot more than you let on right now, my sweetling,” Jaime argues. “If I let my hand venture again, I am sure I could bring the proof right to your eyes.”

“You’ll leave your hands to yourself for now,” Brienne warns him. “And now in all honesty. You really want to stay in _this_ spot for the rest of the day?”

“With you, I'd even stay by a roadside ditch,” Jaime announces.

“Talk about romantic,” Brienne huffs, rolling her big blue eyes.

And there it is again, this familiarity that shouldn’t be there, but is.

“Talk about devotion,” he corrects her with a grin.

“I have any intention to sleep in a hotel, not on the backseat of your cramped car,” Brienne retorts.

“I can agree to a hotel.”

“Who said that we are residing in the same hotel?”

“Who said we are _not_?”

“Up until maybe an hour ago, I didn’t even know you, remember?” Brienne argues.

“For that, we covered quite some ground already,” Jaime hums, playfully tracing his finger over her side.

“What did you say about how you don't normally do things like that?” Brienne huffs.

“I just stick to the reverse order. Now it’s time for us to start properly dating, just so that you know,” Jaime informs her, flashing a bright smile at her that only has her rolling her eyes at him in turn. “Ever the more a reason not to share a room.”

“But we can sneak into each other’s rooms,” Jaime suggests. “You know the thrill of the forbidden now, don’t you? We might just as well try out some more things.”

“In your dreams alone, fellow.”

“Oh, I am _pretty_ sure that you will open the door for me, reminding yourself of what just happened here,” Jaime returns. “Of what I can do to make you feel _really_ good.”

“Don’t be too full of yourself.”

“I am not. It’s just an educated guess based on my performance and your reaction to my performance,” Jaime hums.

“Yet again, you don’t know me,” Brienne sighs, though her voice starts to lack the edge of honest fight. Now it’s more like a lazy exchange of blows.

As it appears, new roads keep appearing out of nowhere the more time he spends with her, so Jaime finds his resolution growing ever the stronger within him to get to know all those secret passageways.

“And I have any intention to get to know you.”

“I still can’t believe that this… _happened_ ,” Brienne says, shaking her head, glancing at the car’s ceiling.

“As you said, odd coincidences happen, and sometimes they bring people together unexpectedly.”

“Nice summary for shaking it up by a roadside ditch,” she huffs, making Jaime laugh in all earnest.

_Yes, you seemingly have to expect the unexpected with Brienne of Tarth at all times._

“But we shook it up _really_ well, don't you think?”

“Are you chasing a compliment on your sex skills that desperately?” Brienne snorts, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I know. I can tell by the way you respond to every of my touches,” Jaime answers.

“Would you quit already,” she grumbles. “Or I might push you off of me right now?”

“Hey, it’s _my_ car!”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you are annoying?”

“You come late to the party,” Jaime chuckles. “I get that all the time, though I really don’t find it in myself to… care.”

“Okay, get up now,” Brienne says, slapping on his back lightly. “I want to put my suit back on, c’mon.”

“What no? This is _comfortable_ ,” Jaime moans, pressing himself against her another time.

“ _Move_.”

“You are bossy.”

“Seems like that is the only way you listen to people.”

“Might be. Or you could convince me,” Jaime chuckles, giving her hip a gentle squeeze.

“How about _not_?”

“I still can’t feel my legs,” he moans dramatically.

“You are not as much of a good actor as you seem to give yourself credit for, so get a move,” Brienne tells him, clapping on his back another time impatiently. Jaime sighs before climbing back out of the car, stuffing everything below the waist back to where it belongs.

“Would you have the piety to occupy yourself somewhere else while I’m getting dressed?” Brienne asks as she sits up, her legs crossed at an odd angle as she does.

“My dear Brienne, I personally undressed you. There is truly nothing I haven’t seen just yet,” Jaime argues.

“Get yourself a shirt from the trunk or whatever,” Brienne quips, having none of it.

“Now turning shy again, are we?” he chuckles.

“Go!”

“I can also lend you some boxer shorts if you liked. Yours seemed pretty _soaked_ ,” Jaime calls out as he shakes out his legs while walking over to the trunk.

“You enjoy yourself way too much saying that.”

“I enjoyed myself much more making that happen.”

“If you have boxer briefs to spare, I'd take them,” Brienne says curtly.

“Ha, so you listen to me after all,” Jaime chimes as he digs through his bag to take out some boxers he believes to fit her after quickly slipping into a fresh shirt himself, which sticks to his skin in odd ways thanks to the sheen of sweat still clinging on to him.

He walks back around, laughing at Brienne sitting at the edge of the seat, legs crossed to ensure that he can’t see much of anything.

“You are _way_ too shy after the display short while ago, just so that you know,” he tells her as he approaches, which only earns him a huff as a reply, “Just give me the boxers already.”

“If you ask nicely,” he teases.

“I won’t.”

“Then you may have to get up and get it.”

“I won’t,” Brienne repeats with absoluteness.

“You are stubborn.”

“And you are annoying.”

Jaime laughs as he covers the distance between them to hold out the briefs to her. Brienne snatches them from his hand before he can playfully pull away.

“And back around the car you go,” she says, waving at him to move away again.

New roads, so many new roads.

“Oh, c’mon, you could at least reward me with one last _visual_. The ride to the next town is going to be long and strenuous,” Jaime argues. “You could consider it a reverse striptease for your sweetheart.”

“Off you go!” she grounds out, pointing her index finger in direction of the trunk once more.

“Did I mention that you are bossy?”

“Maybe once,” she snorts, though this time he can see the amused curve of a smile creeping up her lips.

He is _most definitely not_ the only one up for a jest and a fight, that much is for certain now.

Jaime chuckles as he walks back around the car, granting Brienne the privacy she seems to need now that normalcy is giving way to pleasure and heated lust. And while a part of him would rather have lingered in this moment for a longer while, if not revisiting those roads another time, there is something curiously calming about this whole situation.

Jaime can’t remember ever having felt that much at ease as he does right at this moment, a soft breeze rising, brushing over his heated skin and slick hair.

As though he found his destination long before arriving anywhere close to Old Town, let alone Highgarden.

After some rustling and huffing from Brienne, the tall woman motions over to where he is standing, already struggling back into the sleeves of her overall.

“I bet you will have a hard time riding on your motorcycle now,” he says with a dirty grin. “You know, all that grinding against your still oh so sensitive skin there.”

“Your concern is _greatly_ appreciated,” Brienne huffs. “Though I’ll be fine, I am pretty sure about that.”

“So, my advice would be to take it nice and slow,” Jaime tells her with a smirk. “Oh, or you leave the bike here and ride in the car with me! I could make you ever the more _comfortable_ on the way to town.”

“I am not leaving my _Royal Evenstar_ anywhere,” Brienne argues vehemently. “Only over my dead body.”

“Yeah, might be for the best, upon reflection. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you anyway. We wouldn’t _ever_ make it to town.”

“Which is why I will now start driving away,” Brienne sighs, waving her hand at him.

And Jaime can’t help the small frown yet again – the familiarity that is between them shouldn’t be there. They still barely know each other for how long now? Two hours at tops. Still, Jaime has the feeling like those arguments and bickering are part of the very fabric of his being already.

“But not too far ahead, mind you. You have to guide me, after all,” Jaime argues, puckering his lips, flashing the best of his puppy eyes at her, which only earns him another roll of the eyes from Brienne. “Since when? I thought you had it planned in such great detail. You should be fine without the woman not having chosen a path just yet guiding you.”

“I go wherever you go, easy as that,” Jaime laughs.

That road seems to be the most promising after all.

“Still sounds corny as hell for shaking it up by a roadside ditch,” Brienne huffs.

“This is by far more than that, to _me_ at least,” Jaime insists. To Brienne’s apparent surprise, if not shock, Jaime pulls her to him another time to kiss her, gentler this time, tugging at her wrist to run his fingers across the back of her hand. The air catches in her throat at the intimacy of that contact, opening up more routes, secret passages to link their spaces, extend their maps, and have them meet somewhere in the middle.

“And how about you?” he asks softly once he pulls away.

“Depends,” she says, much to his surprise now in turn.

“On what?”

“How you behave yourself.”

“I am a perfect gentleman.”

“We’ll see about that. Up until now? I didn't see too much of it yet,” she snorts, playfulness sounding about as sweet as it swings with her voice like her arousal and need did back some minutes ago.

It truly is a balancing act with her, as it appears. A constant back and forth.

_A fight._

“So we are going on a shared road trip after all?” he chuckles.

“ _That_ is by no means out yet,” she tells him in a lecturing tone. “For now, we are heading down the same direction to get to town, though.”

“And once we get there, I will _obviously_ treat you something to eat and drink.”

“ _Obviously_?” Brienne wrinkles her nose.

“As I said, wrong order of things, but I _do_ mean to stick to the order of things. So now, dinner would be next on our list, since we skipped that bit in the heat of the moment. And of course more small talk. Much more. I need to learn all about you… that I don’t know yet anyway.”

“Well, we have to discuss about Tarth and Lannister Enterprise and joined business. Yes,” she replies drily.

“You put the work back into work and pleasure,” he groans, though both end up chuckling at this.

“Someone has to,” she huffs, smiling.

“But not just business, right? For that… we are already too close, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I can very well separate that from my professional career,” Brienne says.

“Just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you _have to_.”

“ _In any case_ … we should head to town,” Brienne exhales, looking around.

 _Still nothing and no one on the road other than us two_ , Jaime thinks to himself, trying hard not to laugh.

That only shows him that Brienne was really sent to his rescue, if in a very unconventional way.

“We really better should. It’s a long, _long_ way to go, with many, _many_ stops and breaks along the way,” he hums.

“Like having your car break down in the middle of nowhere?” she snorts.

“Like being rescued from loneliness by a lady-knight, riding in on her mighty… motorcycle.”

“Right,” she huffs, amused, before pulling away from his grasp. Brienne walks over to her motorbike to take the helmet off from the brake lever to pull it over her head, tugging up the visor once to look back at Jaime.

“Try starting the engine again to be sure it’s working for now,” Brienne says as she swings one long leg over the seat. Jaime lingers a moment longer to appreciate the view, making sure Brienne notices to make her scowl at him, before heading over to his car to start it, laughing softly as he does. And the engine soon enough roars as it should.

“I think we are all set,” Jaime calls out to her.

“Good,” she says curtly before pulling her visor back down, quickly slipping into her leather gloves.

“You know I demand those boxers back, right?”

“I can’t hear you!” Brienne shouts as she starts the engine. Jaime laughs, holding his stomach, “I will follow your lead, then.”

Brienne nods before slowly pulling out of the curb back on the road. Jaime gets behind the steering wheel to do the same, wanting to be sure that Brienne doesn’t drive off too far without him.

He will convince her of that shared road trip most certainly.

No matter how much more convincing that will take him.

Because Brienne has the rights of it – a road trip is not so much about arriving somewhere, but enjoying the ride, with all of its unpredictabilities, coincidences, unexpected meetings _and_ _kisses_.

And who knows?

Maybe they are going to head down similar roads soon enough, both on motorcycles, bringing his _Harley Dayne_ back to life for a good and less rebellious, foolish purpose this time. Just watching her glide over the road as though she drove over the passage a hundred times already makes Jaime want to feel the same kind of liberty as she cuts through the wind like a blade.

Though, as for now, Jaime is fine just letting her take the lead, exploring the roads opening up before him, leading to her over and over again.

To what result? He doesn’t yet know.

That is something only time will show.

And Jaime finds himself unable to fear the path ahead, unafraid not to know the directions.

For now, Jaime just enjoys the ride so long he rides with Brienne.

THE END


End file.
